I'd Cross the World for You
by Garideth
Summary: Third installment of my "Not Strong Enough" series! Takes place during the seventh season. Gari is powerless, Sam is hallucinating, Dean is "coping," and Leviathans are slowly taking over the country. This is gonna be a longgg year...
1. If You Need Me There Beside You

**Hello, lovelies! Did you miss me?**

**Okay, so, first we shall talk about _Supernatural _Day! On this day, September 13th, in 2005, the first ever episode of _Supernatural _aired on the _WB_. According to tumblr and facebook, that makes it _Supernatural _Day! Supposedly, you're supposed to wear _Supernatural _merchandise and write "the family business" on your arm. I did that, of course, and I also am wearing a temporary anti-possession tattoo that my roommate got me! So happy _Supernatural _Day, everyone!  
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**But this day is important for a whole different reason, a reason that surpasses even _Supernatural _in my eyes. On this day in 1996, my best friend HeadStuckInTheClouds was born! I'm sure you all remember me rambling on about how awesome and amazing and perfect she is! I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it this far without her constant support and brilliance! She's the Ella to my Gari, and I love her to death!**

**So, babe, when you suggested hopefully that I could post the first chapter on your birthday and I told you I needed more time, I was lying. I'd been planning on posting it on your birthday for quite a while. And you can ask my suite mate how stressed I was that you were pissed at me because I felt I came across as rude. It freaked me out, and I haven't really stopped feeling bad about it until now. But I was rude for the sake of your birthday surprise! SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABE! Forgive me?**

**Anyway, this is the first chapter of the third installment of my _Not Strong Enough _series, _I'd Cross the World for You_. If you haven't read the first two, you probably shouldn't be here right now...  
**

**But, if you know you're in the right place, welcome! This chapter and the next two will take place in between the three week time period in _The Girl Next Door_. So, obviously, this is all my own original crap.  
**

**I don't own _Supernatural _or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

**So... ENJOY.**

"Gari, you've been in there for an hour!" Dean yelled as he beat on the bathroom door. "What the hell are you doin'?"

"Gimme just five more minutes!" I called back, and I flipped on my hairdryer before he could say anything else.

Once I finished drying my hair, I stared in the dirty old mirror and grinned. Maybe it didn't look as totally natural as I'd hoped, but my hair was _blonde _again, and I couldn't help how overly ecstatic that made me. The fact that it was almost as long as it was before I'd cut it was also a major plus.

For the first time in over two years, I finally felt just like my old self again.

I opened the door, and Dean huffed in annoyance. "It's about time," he said agitatedly. "What took you so—?" He stopped abruptly as he saw my hair, and I smiled brightly.

"You like?" I asked, mockingly flipping the long locks over my shoulder and winking at him.

He stared back at me, trying to look angry, but it didn't work. "Alright, yeah," he admitted reluctantly, giving me a tiny grin. "You look good."

"You mean I look _better_," I corrected teasingly. "I _always _look good."

His grin widened despite the irritated way that he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, go show off to Bobby or Sam. I need a shower."

"_Yeah_, you do," I joked. I looked down at his leg and tried not to laugh at the black garbage bag covering the cast. "Good luck with that."

"Y'know, you've been all high-and-mighty over me since you got your cast off," he said, narrowing his eyes accusingly. "At least I'm not gonna have to keep mine on as long as you had to!"

"It doesn't matter how long you have to keep yours on—the fact of the matter is that _mine _is off and _yours _isn't!" I stuck out my tongue at him and leaped out of the way as he lunged out at me; then I burst into laughter as he lost his balance and almost fell on his face. "Careful, Deano!" I crowed happily. "Don't wanna break anything else!" I waved at him over my shoulder and headed for the kitchen, excited to display my hair for the others.

"Shut up!" he called after me, and I just laughed harder.

Okay, yeah, maybe it was silly that I was so happy to have my blonde hair back, but I'd missed it more than I would ever confess. My long, straight, absolutely-totally-perfect blonde hair was a part of me—until Sam left, I had never dyed it or drastically cut it or anything. Sure, I'd experimented with bangs when I was eighteen, but I'd quickly gotten fed up with those and let my hair grow back to normal. It was the one constant in my life, and I'd had no idea how lost I would be without it until it was too late.

When I had black hair, I wasn't me. I wasn't Garideth Leigh Vulcan, the fantastically brilliant demon witch who learned how to fend for herself when she was nine. When I had black hair, I was a shell of my former self—I was desperate and pathetic and, further on down the road, I was barely even _human_. Sam had been right to say that I was no longer Gari—that I was no longer _me_—because it was true. Only looking back did I realize how completely true it was.

But, now, after everything that I'd been through in that year of being alone and in those six months with Soulless Sam and in the few weeks in the panic room… I finally felt like myself again.

And I knew that it wasn't solely because of me going blonde again—I'm not _that _obsessed with my hair—but looking in the mirror and seeing _me_, my actual self (plus a few more scars and bags under my eyes) made me realize that I really was myself again—even if I'd lost most of my awesome powers. Gari was back, and she was here to stay.

I just hoped that everyone else would realize it, too.

Well, really, one person in particular…

"Your hair!" Sam exclaimed as I walked into the kitchen. He was sitting at the table and staring up at me with an expression of utter shock on his face—and maybe a little bit of happiness, too.

I suddenly felt nervous, and I stared down at the dirty floor and twisted a strand of my hair around my fingers. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes and bit my lip before asking, "D'you like it?"

He nodded eagerly and gave me a genuine smile. "Yeah, you, uh—" His eyes dropped to the table, as if he was feeling as nervous as I was for some reason. "Y—you look beautiful," he finished quickly, and my heart gave a little _thump _in my chest at the compliment and the way his cheeks turned pink as he tried to hide his face with his hair.

I felt the heat rush up my neck, and I tried to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Thanks," I said warmly, and I gave up trying to control myself, grinning widely at him. I sat down in the chair next to him and held back a small giggle at the way he fidgeted at our close proximity.

_He hasn't acted like this since we first met, _I thought giddily, my grin growing. _Who knew all I had to do was dye my hair back to normal to get him all adorably nervous again?_

Sam finally turned back to me and opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped abruptly as Bobby came in. "Look at you!" the older hunter said, clapping me on the shoulder as he passed through the room and toward the front door. "Ya finally look like you again!"

"Thanks, Bobby!" I called after him, and I still couldn't wipe that stupid grin off my face. I faced Sam again and raised my eyebrows. "So, it seems the consensus is that my hair is better blonde and I should never, ever, _ever _dye it again. Does that sound about right?"

Once again, Sam started to say something, and once again, he was interrupted—this time, it was as Dean hobbled into the kitchen on his crutches. His hair was dripping wet, and he had a scowl etched so deeply on his face that I didn't know if it would ever go away. There was a bruise blooming on his right elbow, and he winced as it knocked against the doorframe. He grabbed the towel that was slung over his shoulder and rubbed at his hair furiously as he grumbled, "You _still _talkin' about your hair?"

I bit down hard on my lip and averted my eyes as I shook with the effort of holding back my laughter. As soon as Sam let out the smallest chuckle, I lost it.

I clutched my stomach and sucked in deep breaths as I tried to stop laughing, but it was no use. I decided to just let my fit of giggles run its course, despite the fact that Dean looked like he wanted to shove his crutch down my throat. "I—I'm sorry!" I gasped out. "You just—and your _face_—and—_oh_, my God!"

Dean glowered at me until I managed to gain a tiny bit of control. "You done?" he snapped, and I gave a weak nod as I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes. "You wanna give me that seat?"

I obliged instantly, still giggling a little as I stood up and moved behind Sam's chair. "So what happened? Or dare I ask?"

"I fell," he said flatly.

"Hey, at least you didn't die this time," Sam said optimistically, and I let out another giggle.

"_Mystery Spot_?" I asked him.

He grinned up at me and nodded. "_Mystery Spot_."

"Reading those books was probably the best and worst idea of my life," I said. "On one hand, now I know pretty much everything about you guys, and I don't feel totally clueless when you talk about past hunts."

"And how's it the worst idea?" Sam asked.

"Well, the emotional trauma is never gonna leave me," I replied with a shrug.

He chuckled and shook his head in mock disappointment. "You and your attachment to fictional characters."

"Excuse me, but Sam and Dean Winchester are _real_, and one of them is most likely thinking about all the different ways to kill me right now." I grinned over at Dean, and he huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, last time we had a fangirl find out we were real, she stalked Sam," the older Winchester said, his mood lightening the slightest bit as he began to tease his brother.

My grin turned into a pout, and I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. "Who?"

"Becky Rosen," Sam said grumpily. "We met her after Chuck stopped writing the books."

"Damnit, I didn't get to read that! I only got to go as far as Dean going to Hell!" I whined. Dean looked offended, so I immediately said, "Just so you know, I sobbed like a little baby. Every single time."

"You read them more than once?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I blushed and looked down. "Maybe…"

"How many times?"

"More than _Harry Potter_, but less than _Lord of the Rings_."

"So about ten?" Sam asked seriously, and I blanched. I had forgotten that he knew pretty much everything there was to know about me.

"I didn't count on you remembering stuff like that," I said embarrassedly, my blush deepening even more.

"_Ten_?" Dean exclaimed. "As in, you read each book _ten times_? That's like sixty six books!"

"Actually, it's only sixty," I mumbled, staring down at my hands. "Chuck went on some kind of writer's strike during the third season, so there were only sixteen books instead of twenty two." Dean gaped at me, and Sam let out a small laugh. "And, hey," I said defensively, "they're all really short, and Chuck writes like a fifth grader, so they're really fast reads! And I didn't read _all _of them ten times. Just most of them…"

"What was your favorite?" Sam asked.

"…You don't wanna know."

"Aw, c'mon," he implored, looking up at me with those big, pleading puppy eyes, and he grinned as I sighed in defeat.

"Alright, fine," I huffed. "But before I tell you, you have to remember that I am a _total_ emotional masochist."

Dean gave me an odd look. "What d'you mean?"

"She means that she likes reading books that make her cry," Sam explained. "And watching movies and listening to music…" I slapped his shoulder playfully, and he smiled sweetly at me.

"So what's your favorite?" Dean pressed. "And you better choose carefully 'cause I am _so _not okay with our lives bein' there for anyone to see."

"Don't worry—it's not _No Rest for the Wicked_. Your death scene," I clarified at the puzzled expression on his face. "It's not a part of _All Hell Breaks Loose_, either. Or _In My Time of Dying_. Or _Mystery Spot_." I shrugged thoughtfully. "Though it probably would've been _Mystery Spot _if it wasn't for Gabriel's sudden decision to be an even _bigger_ dick…" Sam gave me a pointed look, knowing that I was stalling. I sighed. "Okay, okay. It's a cross between _Home _and _Born Under a Bad Sign_," I told them.

"Okay… and what happened in those?" Dean asked confusedly. "In all the ones you said, really…"

"Well, like I said, _No Rest for the Wicked _was when you went to Hell. _All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 1 _was when Sam died the first time, and _All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2 _was, of course, where you gave your heartbreaking 'What am I s'posed to _do_?!' speech and sold your soul to bring Sam back." The older Winchester shifted uncomfortably as I brought that up, though I wasn't sure if it was because of me bringing up the speech or him selling his soul. "_In My Time of Dying _is when John sold his soul to keep you alive—it's the only time I've ever cried and _will _ever cry for your father. It's the only time he actually _was _a father. I'm sorry," I said instantly, and I let out a small sigh of relief as Dean's fist unclenched and he gave me a short nod. "And _Mystery Spot _was the time of the repetitive Tuesdays."

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, looking offended. "I died like a hundred times!"

"_Over_ a hundred," Sam corrected quietly, and I felt a small pang of regret in my heart.

I squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to convey my apology. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. _All _of it." His eyes slowly met mine, and he gave a small nod to express his gratitude. I knew that he still hadn't told Dean about the six months he'd spent trying to find Gabriel, and I knew that he probably never _would _tell Dean. And it certainly wasn't my place to say anything else about it.

"So… _Home _and _Born Under a Bad Sign_?" Sam said, clearly trying to change the subject.

"I'm surprised you haven't guessed what _Home _is. It's kinda obvious."

Realization dawned in Sam's eyes. "Lawrence," he said, and I nodded.

"What?" Dean asked, looking very put out that he hadn't caught on, too.

"_Home _is when you guys went back to Lawrence and found the poltergeist and Mary's ghost," I explained warily, trying to gauge the older Winchester's reaction.

"Oh." He frowned, and there was a slightly faraway look in his eyes, as though he was remembering all of the conflicting emotions brought on by being in that house and seeing his mother's ghost. He shook his head slightly. "_Born Under a Bad Sign_?" he prompted softly.

"Heh, well, this one's embarrassing…" I chewed on my lip and shifted back and forth on my feet, reluctant to tell them about it.

"Why?"

"Um, well…" I laughed nervously. "That's when Meg possessed Sam…"

"_What_?!" the brothers yelped simultaneously, and Sam spun around in order to stare disbelievingly at me.

I grinned sheepishly. "Meg's funny," I mumbled. "It was nice to see she hasn't lost her sense of humor over the years."

"You _like _her?" The anger on Dean's face was enough to make me take a step back. "She got Ellen and Jo killed, and she almost got Bobby killed, too!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And yet you _still_ worked with her to try to take down Crowley," I shot back. "Speaking of Crowley, how long d'you intend to let him live? Is he still useful to you? Are you keeping him around in case we get another God-angel or something? And wasn't _he_ the one who gave you the Colt and sent you after Lucifer in the first place?" Dean huffed and looked away from me. "That's what I thought. Meg was funny, and she saved my ass from being ripped apart by hellhounds. So forgive me if I don't hate her as much as you do."

Of course, I really _did _like the demon—even though she had been supplying me with demon blood, she _had _tried to get me to stop. I considered her a friend, though I wasn't about to tell them that. But it _did_ piss me off that she just suddenly stopped supplying me without warning. In the long run, it was a good thing, but that was just kind of _rude_.

"The intense broments were great, too," I said after a minute, and I saw Sam try to hide a smile and Dean try to keep looking pissed.

"Alright," Dean said as he struggled to get to his feet, "I'm gettin' outta here before you start bringing up all of our 'broments.'" He hobbled out of the room toward the front door, and I took his seat.

"So…" I said, turning to Sam.

"So…?" he echoed, grinning as I rolled my eyes.

"Do I really have to ask?"

His grin faded, and his eyes flicked to a spot just over my shoulder before looking back at me. "Yeah, I'm seeing him," he said quietly.

I laid my hand on the table, palm facing upward. "Can I…?" I asked slowly, unsure if I was pushing him too far. He nodded once and gave me his hand.

As soon as I touched Sam, Lucifer started tugging on my hair. "Hm, blonde again," he mused. "Y'know, it really _is _your best look."

I gave Lucifer a disgusted glare and turned back to Sam. "Does swatting him away work?"

Sam shrugged. "You could try it. He usually just laughs at me."

"How long has he been playing with my hair?"

"About five minutes."

"_Great_." I swatted my hand at Lucifer, but he just took a step back and laughed before pulling on my hair again. "He's _really _annoying."

"This is the best he's been since…" Sam frowned. "Well, since ever."

"I resent that," Lucifer piped up, but Sam and I ignored him.

I gazed at Sam sympathetically and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. I know it's kinda lame and pointless to say it, but I'm sorry."

He gave me a halfhearted smile. "I'm dealing."

"You don't have to deal alone," I said softly, resisting the urge to withdraw my hand as the words tumbled from my mouth. _Here comes the rejection, _I thought resignedly.

Sam pulled his hand out of mine, looking strangely apologetic. "Yeah, I do," he replied sadly.

I didn't argue, despite how much I wanted to. I simply said, "Okay," and glanced away from the grateful half-smile he was giving me.

"Thanks," he said, "for, uh… for not pushing it."

"It's not really my business, so why would I?" I said emotionlessly, though I still couldn't make myself look at him.

I felt his hand brush my arm and I moved away. He sighed and said, "Gari, please, I—"

"I'm gonna go call Elle," I said abruptly, standing up and heading for the door. "She's probably worried sick."

"Gari, wait."

I turned back to him and forced a smile. "Try not to have any mental breakdowns, okay?" I teased gently. "And I'm always here if you need me."

Before he could say anything else, I walked out of the kitchen and went into the room I'd claimed as mine. I leaned back against the door as I shut it, and I let out a long sigh.

_So much for making progress…_

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I couldn't sleep.

This new/old house was too small, and my bed was too stiff, and the whole place smelled like mildew and rotting wood.

In other words: ew.

Plus, I couldn't stop thinking about Sam. Our previous conversation had been going _so_ _well_—I mean, I thought he was starting to warm up to me again—but then it all went downhill when I tried to help him.

I kind of felt used, to be honest. It seemed he liked having me there whenever he was nearing a breakdown but didn't want me around any other time. And I knew that was very un-Sam-like behavior, but I didn't know what else to think.

_But then the way he looked at me when he saw my blonde hair, and he called me _beautiful_, and he was all jittery and flustered just like he used to be… _

_Ugh. I'm starting to get why some girls hate guys so much. I'm almost thirty—I shouldn't be having problems like this._

_Oh, _God_. I'm almost _thirty_. _

_Nope, nope, nope. Stop thinking about that. I can freak out when I'm almost forty._

_If I live that long…_

_Fuck, okay, this sleeping thing isn't working out for me._

With a sigh, I got out of bed and slipped on some old plaid pajama pants that I rarely ever used. I padded out into the hallway, trying to remember how to get to the kitchen.

Once I finally found it, I went straight to the fridge and rummaged around for something to snack on. My eyes alighted on a pack of pudding cups, and I smiled slightly as I remembered the way the boys had laughed and insisted on buying it due to some inside joke of theirs. I grabbed one of the cups, then searched for a spoon. Thankfully, we had also remembered to buy some plastic utensils. I hopped up on the counter and grinned as I opened the cup and licked the pudding off the top.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, I heard a strange noise. I waited a minute or so to see if it was just my imagination, and, when all was quiet, I dismissed it and went back to my pudding.

_No, there it is again. _I jumped off the counter and tiptoed out of the kitchen, my late-night snack completely forgotten. I paused in the hall, waiting for the noise to happen again so I could follow it. _There! _I turned right and carefully made my way through the too-dark house, my arms stretched out to keep me from running into anything. I reached the end of the hall and stood between two doors, biting my lip indecisively as I waited for the noise to lead me into the correct room. My head jerked to the left as I heard the sound again. _It sounds like a whimper_, I thought as my hand grasped the doorknob. _But who would be—?_

My thoughts broke off as I opened the door and saw a familiar form tossing and turning on the bed. My heart broke as I realized what—or _who_—had been making those pitiful noises.

_Sam._

"Sam?" I called softly, taking a few wary steps forward.

He continued to twist in his sheets, and another small cry escaped his lips. "No," he mumbled plaintively, "_don't_!"

"Sam?" I tried again, reaching out to turn on the small lamp on the bedside table. I moved closer and knelt down beside his bed. I remembered that he normally slept with a knife under his pillow, and the itty bitty part of me that was thinking of anything but Sam was trying to warn me about that, but the majority of me just didn't care.

I noticed that his forehead was drenched with sweat, and dark brown locks of hair clung to it no matter how much he thrashed around. "Stop, _please_," he begged, flipping over so fast that he almost hit me. "It _hurts_."

Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized that this wasn't just a normal nightmare—he was dreaming of the Cage. "Sam, wake up," I said, my voice slightly louder than before. He didn't respond. "Sam, c'mon, it's just a dream; you can wake up now."

"_No, no_!" Sam cried desperately. "Stop! Please, _stop_!"

I didn't care what terms we were on or if I'd see into his dream—I _had _to wake him up. I couldn't let him suffer through this any longer.

I climbed onto the bed and shook him roughly, trying my hardest to block out the images that shot through my mind. If I paid attention to them, I was afraid that I'd be stuck like that, too. "Sam, wake up!" I yelled frantically, tears streaming down my face as he continued to flail. "C'mon, Sammy, it's just a dream! _Wake up_!"

Sam shot up with a gasp, nearly knocking me out of the bed. His eyes darted around the room wildly, like he didn't know where he was; then they finally landed on me. "G—Gari?" he said shakily. "W—what are you—?"

I pulled my hands back into my lap and stared down at them. "I heard you crying out in your sleep," I said quietly. "I had to wake you up."

"I—I'm sorry—did I wake—?" he started, looking guilty, but I broke in.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I don't like this house." I realized then that I was shaking, and I didn't know why. Glancing down, I saw that my knee was pressed against Sam. _He _was the one who was shaking. He was shaking so badly that it was making _me _shake. Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for his hand. He locked his fingers through mine and squeezed hard. "Are you okay?" I asked finally. "Sorry, that's a stupid question, isn't it?"

"I'm fine," he said, and I knew it was sort of an automatic response for him now.

"Was it Lucifer?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"It was nothing," Sam replied flatly, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

I could've pushed him farther and brought up what I'd seen, but I didn't want to do that to him. Instead, I simply said, "Okay."

I kept waiting for him to pull his hand away, but he just loosened his grip the slightest bit. I traced my thumb in tiny circles on the back of his hand subconsciously, and I was struck once again by just how much I'd missed the feeling of his fingers entwined in mine. I'd been doing it a lot lately, but I'd never let myself think about it until now. I knew I shouldn't have been focusing on something as trivial as holding his hand at a moment like that, but I couldn't help it. The way our fingers locked together just felt so natural, like that's how they were always meant to be.

I stayed quiet, despite the urge I felt to say something, _anything_, to comfort him. But, really, what do you say to comfort your ex-lover after he has a Hell-dream?

"It _was _Lucifer," he said softly, and I flinched as he broke the silence. I didn't look at him, afraid that, if I did, he'd stop talking. I felt him move and glanced out of the corner of my eye to see him running his free hand through his hair. "First time I've _actually_ slept since that Leviathan, and I have nightmares." He laughed mirthlessly. "Just my luck, right?" I didn't reply—didn't know _how _to reply. "I haven't been honest with you," he continued, "or Dean. I've been seeing him the whole time since I woke up, and I haven't said anything. Today wasn't the first time. Not even close." I looked at him then, unable to help myself, and I opened my mouth to speak. He stopped me by saying, "But you've noticed, haven't you?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes."

"D'you know that I'm seeing him right now?"

"Yes," I repeated, for I could see him, too. He was leaning up against the doorframe with a calculating look on his face, watching us intently without saying a word. This was the quietest and calmest I'd ever seen him, and I didn't want to think about what that meant for Sam.

Sam glanced at me nervously. "Can…" He sighed and closed his eyes, looking disgusted with himself for some reason. "Can _you _still see him?"

"Yes," I said for the third time, and his eyes lit up the slightest bit, only to darken a moment later. I knew then why he was so ashamed of himself—some part of him was still hoping that I could see Lucifer, just so he wouldn't be alone. I suddenly didn't care if he was using me or not. It wasn't going to stop me from helping him in any way that I could. I squeezed his hand tightly, knowing that he would jerk away after I spoke. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I can see him when I'm touching you. That's why I'm always trying to hold your hand."

He did just what I expected, staring at me incredulously when I kept my grip on his hand. "I—I mean, I guessed, but I didn't want… Let me go!" he ordered. "You don't need to see him, too!"

"Sam, calm down," I told him, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"Are you _crazy_?" he yelped, finally managing to reclaim his hand. I sighed and raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for the rant I knew was coming. "You don't _mind_?" he exclaimed disbelievingly. "I've been dealing with him since my wall fell, and I almost _shot _you, it got so bad! I thought he was _you_, Garideth! My finger was on the trigger! If Dean hadn't stopped me, I would've—you would be _dead_! You have _no idea _what he did—what he's _doing _to me!"

"That's not what I meant," I said softly, somehow masking my frustration.

"Then what _did _you mean?" he asked angrily.

I tried to keep my temper, I really did, but I couldn't stand him yelling at me for some stupid misunderstanding without even letting me explain first.

I glared up at him and snapped, "I meant that I don't _mind _seeing Lucifer if it helps _you_! I'd go to Hell and back for you, Sam, so this is absolutely _nothing_!"

He stared at me, eyes wide with shock and his mouth hanging slightly open. "I—I don't—" he stuttered. "Why would you—?" He stopped and looked away from me, as if looking at me was making it hard for him to think. "You shouldn't say that," he said quietly. "I've been friggin' terrible to you since…"

"I _love _you, Sam," I said bluntly, knowing that, now that I'd said it, I had to keep going. "No matter what was said and done by both of us, _I love you_. And, right now, I don't even care how you feel about me. Just as long as you let me _help_ you."

He regarded me with big, sad eyes, looking like a scolded puppy. Then, all of a sudden, his shoulders sagged even further, and he leaned toward me. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he ducked his head into the crook of my neck.

I honestly didn't know how to react. I was frozen with shock and bewilderment and disbelief and incredulity and all of those other synonyms that meant I was _totally _taken by surprise.

Then I slowly returned the embrace, taking note of the fact that he was still trembling. "It's okay, Sammy," I murmured. I hesitated, waiting for him to correct me. When he didn't, I tightened my arms around him and continued talking. "Everything is gonna be okay. You've beat the devil before, and you can beat him again. It doesn't matter that he's in your head this time. You can still beat him. I know you can."

As I said that, I glanced around the room, hoping that Lucifer wasn't there to refute my promise. He seemed to have disappeared for the moment, so I allowed myself to close my eyes and pull Sam closer. I found myself thinking of all the times he'd comforted me after my nightmares, and I wished I'd never gotten the chance to return the favor.

"I'd give anything for you to not have to go through this," I whispered, and I rubbed my hand in small circles on his back, just like he used to do to me.

He finally released me and pulled away, and I reluctantly let him go. "I know," he said just as quietly.

I bit my lip as the urge to bring up the subject of _us _rose in my throat, and instead, I asked, "So are you okay now?"

His eyes got all big and sad again, and I knew that he could tell what was on my mind. "Yeah, I think so," he replied, also avoiding the subject. "I mean, I'm not seeing him right now, at least."

"You think you can go back to sleep?"

"I'll probably just have those nightmares again if I do," he said, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"I could, um…" _Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Am I really about to say this? Stop talking, Gari! Stop talking _now_!_ "I could stay in here with you," I suggested embarrassedly, and I stared down at the comforter, effectively letting my newly blonde hair hide my face. _Fuck, did I _really _just say that?!_

Sam looked at me sympathetically, and, my _God_, I hated that expression. "Gari, I—"

"C'mon, Sam," I interrupted, giving him a wry grin to cover my discomfort. "It's not like I'm gonna try anything on you. You may be my totally gorgeous ex-whatever, but I'm not _that _pathetic."

He narrowed his eyes angrily. "You _know_ I didn't mean it like that."

I sighed, letting my façade drop. "Yeah, I know," I said. I chewed on my lip thoughtfully, trying to figure out a way to explain my thought process to him. "D'you remember two years ago when Lucifer was talking to you in your dreams?" I asked finally, and he nodded slowly, looking confused. "D'you remember that he had a harder time reaching you when you were with me?"

He nodded again, and I could tell that he was catching on. "What, d'you think that applies here?"

"It might," I shrugged. "Best-case scenario: you sleep Lucifer-free. Worst-case: you spend the night sharing a bed with me for no reason. So, what d'you say? Wanna give it a shot?"

He frowned and said, "I dunno, Gari. I don't really think that—"

"Oh, no, it's okay," I interrupted, and I got out of the bed, trying to hide how much his constant rejection of me hurt. "I understand. It probably wouldn't have worked, anyway. It was a stupid idea." I rapidly blinked back tears as I walked toward the door. "Night, Sam."

"Garideth, wait," he called, and I froze with my hand on the doorknob. I turned back to face him curiously, not letting myself hope for fear of getting rejected again. He gazed at me for a moment, trying to come to a decision. He looked so pitiful and lost and alone, and it physically pained me to see him that way. All I wanted to do was hold him and never let him go, and it hit me again that I didn't have the right to do that anymore. "Maybe…" he started, breaking me out of my thoughts, "maybe it'll work."

I slowly walked back toward him. "Are you sure?"

"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "But… But I don't wanna see him any more than I absolutely have to."

"Okay," I said as I crawled into bed beside him. I rested my head on the pillow, and he clicked the lamp off and did the same. "If you need me, I'm right here," I assured him. "Don't hesitate to wake me—even if you're just dreaming about clowns and midgets."

He chuckled and said, "Alright, _fine_. And, Gari?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

I could just barely see his face in the little bit of moonlight shining through the dirty window, but I could still make out his smile. "Thanks."

"It's what I do," I joked, and he chuckled again. I wriggled around and said, "Your bed's squishier than mine. It's not fair."

"Goodnight, Gari," Sam said sternly, and I grinned.

"Goodnight, Sam."

I inched my hand toward his slowly, and I closed my eyes contentedly when he twined his fingers through mine and squeezed. _Baby steps, _I thought. _I can be patient. He's worth it._

**5,944.**

**And so it begins!**

**GARI IS BLONDE AGAIN. YAY.**

**So, did you love it? Hate it? Feel totally indifferent about it? Let me know!**

**Also, I recently posted another one-shot that ties into my series that is called _Southern Girl With A Scarlett Drawl_. I'm sure you can figure out who it's centered around.**

**And I guess that's it. Until next time!  
**

**Dasvidaniya!**


	2. The Mistake You Can't Live Without

**And we are on chapter two! I watched "The Girl Next Door" yesterday to prep myself for writing that chapter, and, UGH, I don't think I'll ever watch that episode without A) spazzing over the perfection that is Colin Ford, or B) wanting to stab Dean in the face. I have NEVER been so furious at him. EVER. UGH.**

**Anyway, my thoughts (and barely restrained giggles) go out to HeadStuckInTheClouds, who received a black eye at her softball game tonight. I hope you can still see enough to read this, babe! (And the picture is totally gorgeous.)**

**I would like to thank the Guest and a new guest, Rachel, for their reviews. As for Rachel, welcome to the madhouse! You two should get accounts! I want to talk to you! **

**Okay, okay, enough with the badgering and the blabbing. **

**I don't own _Supernatural _or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

**ENJOY.**

Something moved under my head, and my eyes lazily drifted open. I found myself staring up at Sam, and, upon further inspection, I noticed that my head was lying on his chest and my arm was draped over his waist.

I was suddenly _very _awake.

I quickly rolled away from him, letting out a string of apologies and profanities and growing more and more confused at the amused look on his face.

"You're… not mad?" I asked unsurely.

"You can't control what you do in your sleep," he reasoned. "It's not a big deal."

I narrowed my eyes. "Alright, who are you and what have you done with Sam?" I said warily. "We just _cuddled_ while _sharing a bed_, and you aren't being all distant or moody or anything."

He shrugged. "I just don't see how it's a big deal."

"Oh…kay…" I had no idea what to say to that. "Well, uh, I'm gonna go…" I flipped the covers back and put my feet down, wincing at the coolness of the floor. The house may not have been very user-friendly, but the air conditioning was _fantastic_. _I should invest in bedroom shoes if we stay here much longer. Or just more socks._

As I reached the door, Sam called out, "Gari, wait!"

I turned around, biting my lip as I waited for him to revert to moody Sam and finally get pissed at me. "Yeah?" I squeaked, shifting back and forth on my feet, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

"Thanks," he said, giving me a sincere grin. "I didn't have any more nightmares, and I think that was because of you. So… thanks."

"Oh! Uh, heh. You're welcome," I said awkwardly, tugging on a strand of my hair and giving him the best smile I could muster.

"Same time tonight?"

My eyes widened in shock, and I nodded slowly. "Okay… Sure." My smile became easy and genuine, and I relaxed my stance. "Sounds great." I walked out of Sam's room, the smile still glued to my face.

I hummed to myself as I went into the kitchen and grabbed a box of Lucky Charms from the cabinet, and I hopped up on the counter and dug around in the box a bit before popping a blue moon marshmallow into my mouth.

"What's got you so happy this morning?" Dean grumbled as he made his way to the table.

"Oh, nothing." I shrugged. "I'm just in a good mood for once."

"Well, I'm glad one of us is." I grinned at him and scrounged around for some more marshmallows. I tossed a handful of them into my mouth, and he frowned. "Are you just eating the marshmallows?" he asked accusingly.

"Yeah, so?" I mumbled around my mouthful of cereal.

"You can't do that!"

"Dude, c'mon, the marshmallows are the best part!"

"Yeah, but you gotta leave some for people who actually eat the cereal!"

"Like you've never just eaten the marshmallows out of the box before!"

"I haven't!" Dean argued. "Sam always caught me before I could eat them!"

"He made you put them back?"

"No, he pouted until I gave them to him," he muttered unhappily.

"Aw, you're such a sweet big brother!" I laughed and jumped down from the counter. I grabbed a large bowl from the drain and set it in the center of the table; then I took the other seat and poured the rest of the cereal into the bowl. "Here, let's pick out the marshmallows," I suggested. "We won't share with Sam."

"That's stupid, Gari," Dean said, but I saw a spark of excitement in his eyes.

"Fine, suit yourself," I said carelessly. "More for me."

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I started making a little pile of marshmallows in front of me. Finally, he heaved a sigh of defeat and said, "Alright, fine, let me have some!"

Five minutes later, after Dean and I had sorted all of the marshmallows into piles by what kind they were, Sam came into the kitchen. "So…" he said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between us and the table, "what are you guys doing?"

Dean, having just shoved a handful of rainbows in his mouth, coughed a little and managed to say, "Nothin'…"

I choked on a clump of balloons as I started to laugh, and I had a brief moment of panic when I found it difficult to breathe. Finally, I swallowed and said, "You can't have any! It's Dean's turn to be a child!"

Sam looked increasingly more bewildered as Dean grinned at me and went for a pile of clovers. "What the hell are you talking about?" the younger Winchester asked confusedly.

"You can't steal his marshmallows anymore," I explained rationally. "It's his turn to enjoy them."

"Don't you think it's a little early to start drinking?"

"Why d'you ask?"

"Because you're _definitely _drunk."

I leaned over to Dean and whispered conspiratorially, "He's just saying that because he's jealous. If he goes all sad-puppy, _don't give in_."

Dean nodded. "I got this," he assured me, and he smirked up at his brother. "Get your own marshmallows, Sammy."

Sam frowned. "Is this about when we were kids?" he asked, and Dean nodded. "Dude, are you _ever _gonna let that go?" he exclaimed. "It's not _my _fault you gave me everything I asked for."

"You asked for a Barbie doll and a sparkly princess wand?" I asked curiously.

"_What_?"

"_A Very Supernatural Christmas_."

"What are you—ugh! No!" Sam ran a hand through his hair agitatedly, and I stifled a giggle. "And, if you remember, Dean _stole _those. I didn't ask for them!"

"Aw, isn't he just adorable when he's flustered?" Dean joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam.

"The _cutest_," I agreed happily.

"You guys _suck_," Sam pouted, and he leaned back against the refrigerator with his arms crossed and his eyes in full puppy mode.

Dean and I glanced at each other, our eyes wide and panicked. I saw a grin tugging at the corner of Dean's mouth, but I forced myself to ignore it, knowing I'd crack up if I didn't. "Oh, no!" I exclaimed worriedly. "It's the puppy eyes!"

"Don't give in to them!" Dean urged seriously, though I could tell he was about to start laughing.

Sam huffed in annoyance. "Guys…"

"They're too strong!" I cried, throwing an arm over my eyes dramatically. "Here, you fiend!" I pushed a few hearts over in Sam's direction. "Take these marshmallows and do with them what you will! Just leave us be!"

Sam finally cracked a grin, and Dean finally chuckled, and I finally lost all control (and ability to breathe). "Why do I even put up with you?" Sam asked me, shaking his head as he ate one of the marshmallows.

"Hey, Dean asked me that the other day!" I said breathlessly as my laughter faded into sporadic giggles. "Personally, I think it's because of my awe-inspiring sense of humor, but I'm open to hearing your reasons, too."

"I'd have to say it's your humility," Sam replied with a nod.

"Ah, sarcasm," I sighed, "how original. I'm so impressed."

"I'm so impressive."

"You _think_ you're so impressive," Dean said, grinning.

"I _am _so impressive!" I said instantly, and then I laughed awkwardly as the brothers stared at me with identical expressions of confusion on their faces. "Heh, sorry. Ninth Doctor reference. I couldn't resist."

"Maybe it's the extreme level of _dork_," Dean suggested casually.

"I will take _that_ as a compliment," I told him, sticking my tongue out childishly.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So you've been sleepin' with him for a _week_?!" Ella exclaimed, and I held the phone away from my ear at her loud voice.

"_Just _sleeping, Elle," I impressed sternly. "Don't get so excited."

"But that's progress!" she insisted. "You're makin' progress!"

I suppressed a grin, despite the fact that I knew she couldn't see me. "Yeah, I know."

"You're tryin' not to smile right now, aren't ya?" she asked suspiciously.

"No…" I lied weakly. "Maybe… Okay, yeah." I grinned. "Definitely."

"Well, ya _should _be smilin'! Ya got no idea how stressed out I've been because of y'all! I mean, it was bad enough _before _Sam's wall fell, but after… I thought y'all were never gonna make up!" She let out a little squeal of happiness, and I imagined her kicking her legs excitedly. "I'm just so happy for ya!"

"Well, we haven't _technically _made up…" I said slowly.

"What d'ya mean?" she questioned, her mood dropping significantly.

"He still hasn't apologized."

I could hear the confusion in her voice as she asked, "You're not just gonna take this past week as an apology?"

I bit my lip hesitantly, wondering if I was making the right move. I'd been thinking about this the whole week, that maybe all of the normalcy was Sam's way of saying he was sorry. I'd debated whether I should just accept that and move on and act like everything was as it should be or if I should wait for a proper apology, for Sam to come right out and tell me that he'd been wrong, too, and that it hadn't all been my fault.

And after all of that thinking, I'd chosen the latter option.

I had suffered too much heartbreak at the hands of Sam Winchester, and he was going to apologize to me if it took the rest of his life for him to work up the courage to do so. Maybe we weren't fighting anymore, but I still remembered our biggest argument like it had happened only yesterday, and I still remembered my promise: "I won't apologize again."

And I intended to keep that promise.

"Gari?" Ella prompted worriedly. "Ya there?"

"Yeah, Elle," I replied as her voice jolted me out of my thoughts. "I'm here."

"So are ya gonna forgive him now?"

I shook my head slowly. "No, I'm not. Not yet."

"But why not?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Because I've apologized more times than I can count, and he hasn't said it once. After all that I've been through, it's his turn to try to make it up to me."

"Your stubbornness isn't gonna get ya anywhere," she said wisely. "You're just gonna be stuck where ya are, with you comfortin' him every night and him takin' you for granted."

"Sam wouldn't do that," I said defensively.

"He's been doin' it for a week," Ella contradicted.

I took a deep breath, trying to control my temper. I really didn't want to blow up on Ella, not when I knew she was just looking out for me. "He's not taking me for granted," I said calmly. "I offered my help, and he accepted it. I love him, Elle. Even if he _was _taking me for granted, it wouldn't change anything. I'm always gonna be there for him. No matter what, as long as he needs me, I'm gonna be there. Now tell me you wouldn't do the same for Dean."

I heard her sigh through the phone. "You're an idiot, ya know that?" she said exasperatedly.

I grinned wryly. "I know."

"You're gonna get your heart broken again."

"At least I'm used to the pain now, right?" I joked weakly. "It can't possibly be any worse than what I've already dealt with."

"I hope you're right, sis," Ella said sadly. "I'm just tired of seein' ya so unhappy."

"I know," I said quietly. "I know." I ran a hand through my hair and sighed as I tried to think of a way to change the subject. A light bulb suddenly went off in my head. "My hair is blonde again, by the way," I told her.

"_Really_?" she gasped, sounding a whole lot happier than she did five seconds ago. "Is it your old color?"

"It's as close as I could get with drugstore hair dye."

"Which is?"

"Actually pretty damn close."

"I wanna see! Send me a picture!" she demanded.

"Well, once we get off the phone, I will!"

"Y'all have to come see me soon, okay?" she said, and I tried to ignore the desperate note in her voice. "I was worried sick after y'all took so long to call me when Sam was comatose and Cas went all God-ish. I need to see my family again."

"I miss you, too, babe," I replied warmly. "We'll see you soon, okay? I promise."

"You swear?"

"I swear." A grin started to spread across my face as I anticipated her next few words.

"On the precious?"

I laughed lightly. "On the precious." She started to speak again, but I broke in and said, "I know, I know. The Ring will hold me to my word. I gotcha."

"You better."

"I do!"

"Alright, good!" She paused for a minute, and, when she spoke, she sounded a little choked up. "Love ya, Gari," she said softly.

"I love you, too, Elle," I said warily. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she insisted weakly. "I just want y'all to come back."

"We will. I'll talk the boys into leaving tomorrow. I'll see you before the week is out."

"Okay," she said, sounding a little better. "See ya soon."

"See you soon."

The line went dead, and I stared down at the phone in my hand, wondering what could've possibly made Ella so sad so quickly. _She could just miss us, _I thought hopefully, and I couldn't really think of any other reason for her to be upset. She and Dean had worked out their problems, and she knew I wasn't just going to up and disappear again anytime soon. _Missing us has to be the only reason. And I miss her, too. I'll talk to the boys tomorrow. I don't see why they'd say no. I'm sure Dean wants to see her and the kids again. This should be no problem._

At that, I pushed all of those worries into the back of my mind and got up off the musty old couch. I was _starving_, and, since Sam, Dean, and I kept eating all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms—I was really starting to regret that whole bonding moment, seeing as I had to share my marshmallows now—there wasn't much food in the house. With a sigh, I left the room and went to search for Dean, intent on making him find me something to eat.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Just like I had for the past week, I waited until all the lights in the old house were out before slipping into the hallway. I knew the way to Sam's room so well that I could've made it there with my eyes closed, and, due to the near-total darkness, that was pretty much what I had to do every night. I had a mild scare when I tripped over the hem of my pajama pants—you have _no_ idea how much I hated those things—but, other than that, my quick journey was without incident.

I tapped my index finger on the door, the three clicks of my fingernail against the wood letting him know that it was me; then I hurriedly stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I was met with a sight that had me spluttering and blushing furiously as I tried to force myself to avert my eyes.

Sam was standing in front of me, a look of surprise on his face and a towel wrapped around his waist. Wet hair clung to his forehead, and he pushed the locks out of his eyes with a jerking, nervous motion. No matter how much I was reprimanding myself, I couldn't stop staring at the water droplets clinging to his perfectly chiseled abs (wow, I sound like a horny teenager) and the way that the muscles in his arms tensed as the result of him clenching and unclenching his fists.

My eyes traveled up to his face, and when I saw that he was also staring at me, I snapped out of my drool-fest. I quickly brought my hands up to hide my eyes and stuttered out, "I—I'm so sorry, I didn't—I just _assumed_—I mean, I—ah—crap."

I heard him chuckle, and I peeked through my fingers at him. His cheeks were bright red, but he was grinning slightly. "It's okay," he assured me, though his voice had a distinctly shaky quality. "Let me just—uh—I'm gonna go put some clothes on."

"Alright, yeah, that sounds good," I agreed, nodding vehemently, though I would have been happy to just stare at him for pretty much the rest of my life. I kept my hands over my face and stayed by the door, afraid to look or move.

After a minute, Sam said, "Okay, we're good."

I hesitantly dropped my hands and gave him an awkward grin. I did a quick once-over, managing not to blush, though I could still see the outline of his muscles through his t-shirt. _He could've at least kept the shirt off, _a small part of me thought wistfully.

"Sorry," I said weakly, "I didn't know you were…" For some reason, I couldn't make myself say _naked_. The word seemed inappropriate and immature.

"It's okay," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

I slowly walked over and sat down beside him, unsure of what to say. Finally, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and asked, "So… have a nice shower?"

He laughed—an _actual_ laugh, not just a chuckle or an amused huff—and I felt my insides go all warm and fuzzy. I grinned at him, feeling the heat of another blush on my cheeks, but I didn't really care anymore. "It was alright," he said once he'd stopped laughing. "The water pressure could be better, though."

"At least it didn't go cold on you," I said with a shrug.

"Nah, it was just consistently cold instead," he replied, letting out a little chuckle, and I giggled. His eyes lit up at the sound. "You never used to giggle—you always said it was too girly."

"It is," I agreed. "But I just stopped caring. If I feel like giggling, I'm gonna giggle." I frowned. "I feel like we've said giggle too many times for normal conversation…"

"Since when have we _ever _had a normal conversation?"

"Good point. But we _have _been having increasingly normal conversations lately."

It was true—all this week, before going to sleep, we'd talked about movies and books and politics and religion, and I'd been trying to figure out Sam's music taste. So far, I'd got him to confess that he liked bands like Jimmy Eat World, Iron & Wine, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Killers, and Smashing Pumpkins. He said he'd listened to stuff like that when he was in college, but he'd grown to love Dean's mullet rock over the years.

And then he'd made the mistake of telling me his guilty pleasure was Coldplay. I made a point to bring it up every time we talked, just to see the slight blush on his face and hear him mumble an embarrassed, pouty "Shut _up_, Gari!"

"So…" I said with a grin as I stretched my legs out under the covers and leaned back against the headboard. Sam sighed, already knowing what I was going to say. "Hear any good Coldplay songs lately?" I teased.

"Hey, there is _nothing _wrong with liking Coldplay," he defended loyally.

"Yeah, if you're a chick. Or a sappy, emotional weirdo." I gave a mocking shrug and looked over at him, a wicked grin stretching over my lips. "So, okay, I guess I can see how that would appeal to you."

He huffed exasperatedly, and I was not disappointed by the pink that tinged his cheeks. "Shut _up_," he muttered, getting all whiney and cute. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

I laughed and said, "No, you definitely shouldn't have. But you wanna know a secret?" His eyes flicked over to me curiously, and I smiled back at him. "_Fix You_ is one of my favorite songs," I admitted.

"Aaand you're still making fun of me," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"No, really!" I said eagerly. "I know all the words by heart."

"You're lying," he said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

I held up my right hand. "Scout's honor."

He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Sam Winchester, am I gonna have to sing you a freaking lullaby?" I said with a falsely rude tone, and I raised my eyebrows at him skeptically.

The bitch-face he gave me was enough to make me laugh out loud. "Remind me why I talk to you again?" he said agitatedly. "I don't think we ever really reached a decision on that."

"Well, you don't have too many people to choose from," I shrugged, and then I realized how sad and true those words were. His brow furrowed in that adorable way as he frowned. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Way to ruin the mood, right?"

"It's okay," he replied softly, and he slumped back against the headboard beside me. "It never lasts, anyway."

"…Are you seeing him?" I asked after a while, and he nodded once. I didn't even have to reach for his hand this time—he offered it up freely and locked his fingers through mine. The desperate, crushing pressure of his large, strong hand was a little painful, especially since my right hand was still a little sore, but it was better than not holding his hand at all.

Over in the corner, Lucifer was rocking back and forth on his feet, singing _Rock-a-Bye, Baby _in a loud, out-of-tune voice. When I glared at him, he just grinned and shrugged and continued singing.

"Does the hand thing still work?" Sam nodded again, and I pressed down on his scar with my thumb. He winced slightly, but he let out a deep sigh of relief when Lucifer disappeared. "Better?" I asked, releasing his hand.

"Yeah," he murmured, and the weariness in his soft voice sent a pang through my heart. "Better." He slouched down a little further until his head was resting on my shoulder, and I gently readjusted my position so that both of us would be more comfortable. I hesitantly ran my fingers through his still-damp hair, and he made a contented noise deep in his throat and let his eyes slide closed.

I'll be the first to admit that our current relationship was weird—we were together, but we weren't, and it was very confusing for me. But I'd meant what I said to Ella: none of this was going to progress any further until Sam apologized to me. I knew that I'd done some terrible things and that they greatly outweighed everything Sam had done (the Apocalypse wasn't _technically _his fault, but—oh, you know what I mean), but I'd apologized to the point where I think my brain would've just shut down if I tried to do it again. He'd said and done some bad things—some _really hurtful_ things—and, while I'd forgiven him already, I couldn't forget all of that. But if he ever _once_ said he was sorry… well, let's just say I wouldn't _just_ be comforting him right now…

Sam's breathing slowed, and I knew he was starting to fall asleep. I sang softly, continuing to lightly thread my fingers through his hair. _Looks like he's getting that lullaby after all, _I thought, smiling to myself. "_And high up above or down below, when you're too in love to let it go… But if you never try, you'll never know… just what you're worth. Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to—_"

"Gari?" Sam interrupted quietly, his eyes flickering open.

"Hm?"

"I…" He trailed off with a sigh. He lifted his head from my shoulder and sat up, and I let my hand fall back to the bed. "I—I need—" He stared down at the bedspread, and he traced his hand along the edge of my arm. Whether he was aware of doing it or not, the simple motion sent chills down my spine, and I struggled to focus my attention on what he was trying to tell me. "I—I need to apologize to you," he finally managed to say.

I'm pretty sure my eyes were as wide as saucers as I stared at him in shock. _Is he _serious_? He's really saying he's sorry? He's _finally_ admitting his mistakes, too?_

"I shouldn't have judged you so harshly for the demon blood," he said, still unable to meet my eyes. "I know what it can do to you—I know how it changes how you think and how you act, and I shouldn't have taken it so personally when you wouldn't let me help you. I should've known it was something you'd have to do alone and that I would just make it harder for you."

I felt compelled to reassure him, to tell him how much I really wanted him to help, but that I felt I didn't deserve it. "Sam, that's not—" I stopped abruptly as he lifted his eyes to mine, and those gorgeous depths—currently a crystalline blue—were filled with more sorrow and regret than I would've thought possible for one person to feel.

"And after—after we got you out, I… I should've taken you back right then." His voice wavered, and, when I reached for his hand, he shied away. "You needed me, and I _knew _you needed me, but I just… After everything that happened with the detox, I thought you would've been better off without me. I let you down once already, and I thought I'd do it again." He mumbled something under his breath, but all I caught was, "…still think I will."

"Sam—"

"I called you a _monster_, Garideth," he said pitifully, his voice cracking as he said my name. "You're the _only_ one who's ever defended me against Dean and Cas and everyone, and I called you the same thing that still haunts me. I can still hear Dean calling me a monster and a freak and—and I went and did that to _you_. What kind of a person _does _that?" he asked, his tone and his eyes full of disgust.

"Hey, it's okay," I promised solemnly, though I had to hold back the joyous grin that kept trying to work its way onto my face. _He _apologized_. For _everything_. Maybe things will change now. Maybe… Maybe we can be together again. _I shook my head slightly, pushing the thought to the back of my mind and focusing on the devastated, broken man sitting beside me. "Sam, look at me," I said gently. He refused to do so, stubbornly clenching his jaw in the way that made me want to slap him and jump his bones at the same time. I hesitantly reached up and placed my hand on his cheek, making him look at me again. I frowned at the bags under his eyes and the stubble that was brushing against my palm. _My _God_, he looks terrible. Why didn't I notice this before? I thought I was actually _helping _him. It doesn't look like he's slept at all._

Sam finally closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. "Gari, I…" he started, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "I'm _so_ sorry. I should've been there. I shouldn't have said those things to you."

I gave him a wry grin, hoping it would at least make him stop looking so disgusted with himself. "I think we're both pretty guilty on that last part."

He grinned back at me, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "How d'you do that? You just made me forget."

"Forget _what_?" I asked confusedly.

"Forget about Lucifer," he explained softly. "Forget about Hell." He gazed down at me, a million apologies swimming in his hazel eyes. "Forget about what I said to you."

I bit my lip and tried to ignore the way his eyes flicked down to follow the motion. If I let myself hope, I knew I'd be crushed when he turned me down again. Just because he'd apologized and just because I still wanted him didn't mean _he_ wanted things to go back to the way they were. I could've been misreading all of the signs. I could've been imagining the longing in his eyes whenever I caught him looking at me.

"Sammy, that—_all _of that was my fault," I found myself saying, and, though I knew it was true, it felt somewhat counterproductive. "I'm sorry," I said immediately as I realized what I'd called him. Just because he hadn't corrected me the other night when I was comforting him didn't mean it was okay to call him that now. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," he interrupted gently, and I wondered if he was purposely moving his face closer to mine or if it was a subconscious action. "I don't mind."

Finally, despite the internal battle I was having, I leaned forward and kissed him.

As soon as I did it, I pulled away ashamedly, and I could feel my face growing hot with embarrassment. "I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, putting more distance between us. "You were just _there_, and I thought you were leaning in, and—"

He was regarding me with a strange, contemplative look, one I'd only seen a handful of times before. That was the look he got whenever he was trying to work up the courage to do something.

I continued to ramble the entire time I was noticing this. "—Sam, you _know _I still feel the exact same about you; you _know_ I still love you more than anything, and I know we've been fighting, and I know that I ended it, but that's because I didn't wanna hear _you _end it, and then you said I'm not me, but we've been getting _so_ close lately, since I've been trying to help with your hallucinations, and I just thought that—"

Sam crushed his lips to mine, and my response was automatic. I rose up onto my knees and pushed back against him, all the while running my fingers through his shaggy hair and pulling him closer to me. We came up for air briefly, and I found that I was now somehow straddling his lap. I kissed him hungrily, trying to make up for all the time lost between us, and he matched my desperation perfectly. His tongue begged entrance to my mouth, and I willingly obliged, groaning slightly at the fantastic sensation. After breaking apart to breathe again, his mouth went to my neck, and I let out a moan as pleasure-induced chills broke out all over my body.

Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open, and we broke apart. I couldn't help but grin at how reluctant Sam seemed to tear his lips from my neck—that is, until I saw the incredulity on Dean's face.

"What the _hell _is—?! I don't even—!" the older Winchester spluttered, glancing between his brother and me bewilderedly. "You're not—" he gestured his hands wildly at us, trying to find the right word "—_together _anymore!"

Sam grinned sheepishly. "Well, see, funny story…" he began, but he didn't finish his sentence.

I noticed Dean was staring at something on the bed with a certain amount of disgust, and I realized with a jolt that Sam's hands were still planted firmly on my hips, halfway hidden by the hem of my shirt, and that I was still in his lap. I quickly detached myself from the younger Winchester and rolled to my side of the bed, then smiled innocently at Dean.

I think that was the first time I'd ever seen Dean truly speechless, and it was pretty unnerving. "Just—just keep it down, would ya?" he said finally, his voice unusually gruff to cover up how awkward he felt with this whole situation. He stared at me for a minute longer, looking even more uncomfortable than before. "And, uh, Gari?" he said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"You're, uh, you're losin' your tank top." With that, he shut the door and bolted.

My eyes grew wide as I thought about the implications of that sentence. My hand went to the strap of my shirt, and I gave a small sigh of relief as I realized that it had only partially fallen off my shoulder.

I let out a strained, nervous giggle. "I almost flashed your brother," I said disbelievingly.

"Close call, huh?" Sam said, and, even though my back was turned to him, I could tell that he was grinning.

"I'll say," I replied as I pushed my strap back into place.

A second later, a rough, calloused hand ran over my shoulder and pushed it back down. I felt Sam's lips press against my shoulder blade, and I closed my eyes and gave a happy sigh. He trailed his lips up my back and onto my neck, somehow managing to find the same spot as before.

"You could lose the rest of your tank top," he suggested deviously, briefly breaking contact with me.

I reached back and ran my hand through his hair, pulling him back to my neck. "Or you can just keep doing what you're doing," I countered, stifling a gasp as he softly nipped the spot with his teeth. "And _you're _the one who decided to put clothes on earlier. I would've been perfectly fine with the alternative."

He gave a deep, throaty chuckle, and I gently pushed him away and leaned back into his chest. His arms went around my waist, and I found myself reveling in the feeling of being that close to him again.

My mood suddenly dropped as unwanted thoughts entered my head, and I wriggled slightly, trying to pull away.

He just ran his hand up and down my arm and softly asked, "What's wrong?"

I chewed on my lip hesitantly, afraid of his answer to the question that was burning in my brain. "Sammy?" I said at last. (I _loved_ being able to call him that again.)

"Hm?"

"I know you apologized, and you know I accepted it—God, I forgave you _so_ long ago—but there's just…" I sighed, reluctant to finish my thought. "You said… um, when we were fighting, you said…" I squeezed my eyes shut and rushed out, "You said I wasn't me anymore. D'you still think that?"

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head before saying, "I haven't thought that in a _long _time."

I twisted in his arms and glared up at him. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Would you believe that Dean and I do share at least two personality traits?"

I raised my eyebrows expectantly. "And those traits would be…?"

"The first one's easy," Sam said. "We're both stubborn."

I grinned. "Got that right," I agreed. "What's the other?"

"Pride," he said simply. "We're both too proud for our own good. Neither of us like admitting we need help, and both of us _hate _admitting we're wrong."

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. "So you were too _proud _to take me back so quickly?" I said patronizingly.

He didn't get offended; he just nodded once. "And you didn't really make it easy to fix things," he reminded me.

I blushed and rested my head back against his chest. "And you're over that now?" I asked.

"What do _you _think?" he said, grinning as he gave me a quick kiss.

I smiled, but it soon faded as another thought entered my head. "You also said that you still loved Gari…" I looked up at him again. "Does that mean you still—?"

He ducked his head slightly so that his hair hid his face. A small part of me wanted to smile at the childish action—and the fact that his hair was long enough to do that—but the rest of me had my undivided attention on what Sam was about to say.

"I never stopped loving you," he murmured. "Even when…" He trailed off uncomfortably, but I knew he was talking about the detox. "I've always loved you," he continued. "And I'm sorry I haven't shown it much lately."

"Sammy, I—"

"No, let me finish," he said eagerly, finally meeting my eye. "I—I know I've been having a hard time telling what's real—but I _do _know—I mean, I've realized recently that…" His voice dropped slightly, as though he was unsure of how I would react to what he wanted to say to me. "I don't think I can do this without you."

I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion, but I couldn't help the small smile that spread over my face. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean that I don't think I could beat the devil again—I don't think I could be there for Dean—I don't think I could keep going… without _you_." He gazed at me hopefully with love shining all the way down through those bottomless hazel eyes of his. "Is that crazy?"

"Yes, it is," I replied honestly. It _was _crazy. It was crazy that both of us felt that way, that we needed each other to survive. It was _insane_. "But that's okay," I told him.

And it was.

**6,254.**

**SAMMY AND GARI ARE BACK TOGETHER AT LAST. I LOVE THE FLUFF, AND I LOVE THE CHEESINESS OF THE FLUFF, AND DID I MENTION I LOVE THE FLUFF?**

**Okay, calming down now.**

**Anyway, review it, lovelies!**

**Dasvidaniya!**


	3. You Let Me Fall Apart Without Letting Go

**Okay, chapter three! The next chapter will partially take place in an episode, so the super-originality that has been in these first three is coming to an end. But, just FYI, I saved the best for last! (In my opinion, anyway.) There's a lot of Sam and Gari going on after the last chapter, and UGH. I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH.**

**Okay, so thanks to the normal Guest reviewer and a brand new Guest for their reviews! Get accounts, guys! Come on!**

**And let's all welcome Rachel to her official membership to this beautiful website! Everyone say hello to shewaslikeahurricane!**

**Also, something Rachel/shewaslikeahurricane made me think of in her last review... Guys, I strongly advise against reading the closing author's note before reading the chapter. I'm wont to gush about my work and use lots of spoilers down there! I mean, it's your choice, but you'll never be surprised if you look down there first!**

**Anyway, I don't own _Supernatural_ or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

**So ENJOY.**

When we pulled up outside the little blue house, Ella was standing on the porch with a scowl on her face. She had Sami on her hip, and Johnny, to my surprise, was standing on sturdy little legs and holding onto the bottom of his mother's skirt.

I knew that it had been taking the twins longer than normal to reach some of those "baby milestones," so I didn't expect to see Johnny standing basically on his own. I wondered if he'd started actually talking, instead of just saying "Mama" whenever he wanted anything, and I wondered if Sami had made any progression whatsoever. Ella was always so worried about how long it was taking her little girl to start walking and talking.

I was the first one up the steps, and Ella's eyes lit up the slightest bit when she saw me. "Hey, babe," I said, giving her an awkward hug, seeing as Sami was caught in the middle. The little girl stared at me, her bright green eyes wide and curious. "Hey, Sami," I said warmly. "Remember me?" She ducked her head into the crook of Ella's neck, but she turned slightly and smiled at me.

"Can ya hold her?" Ella asked abruptly, practically thrusting Sami at me.

Sami made a noise of protest and reached for her mother, her lip trembling with a building sob. I hurriedly removed my blue-stoned amulet and placed it around the little girl's neck. She grinned down at it, staring reverently at the stone in the center, and I heaved a sigh of relief. _Crisis averted._

Ella marched angrily toward Dean, who was just coming around the Impala. "Hey, Elle!" he said, a large grin spreading over his face as he opened his arms to her, despite the way he wobbled without the crutches. "Miss me?"

Her reply came in the form of a slap to his face. "You _dick_!" she snarled. Sam stared between her and his brother, looking kind of scared, and then he quickly came to stand beside me on the porch.

Dean rubbed his cheek, his eyes wide with incredulity. "What did I _do_?!" he yelped.

"What day is it?!" she countered furiously.

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "November 17th," he replied, still looking lost. "Why…?" Some sort of realization seemed to dawn on him. "The twins' birthday…" he said slowly, a faintly sick look on his face. "Oh, God, Elle. I'm so sorry."

Her mood suddenly flipped, and she gave him a bright, warm smile. I could see the bewilderment on Sam's and Dean's faces, but I knew this tactic all too well. "Oh, well, it's okay, honey!" she said, shrugging good-naturedly.

Dean hesitantly smiled back at her. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

Ella frowned again. "_Fuck _no!" she growled, and she promptly turned and stomped back inside the house.

There was a long moment of absolute silence while Dean stared after Ella and Sam and I glanced at each other uncomfortably.

"You should probably go after her…" I suggested after a while. "You know how she is when she gets pissed. Just talk to her."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, you're right." He hobbled up the steps, looking utterly defeated.

Sam suddenly glanced down, and I followed his gaze to see Johnny tugging on his pants leg. "Hey, Johnny," he said, smiling down at the toddler. Johnny continued to pull on Sam until the younger Winchester sat down beside him on the top step.

I sat down, too, adjusting Sami to where she was now sitting in my lap. "So I guess we're the babysitters now," I said.

"Looks that way," he replied. "But I'd rather be out here than in there."

I grinned at him. "Yeah, Elle can be scary when she wants to be. I saw you spaz out when she went all rage-monster on Dean."

"I didn't 'spaz out,'" he said defensively. "I just removed myself from the situation."

"Which translates to running up here to hide behind me," I teased.

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

"Okay," he said, his voice going slightly deeper, and he leaned into kiss me.

As soon as our lips brushed together, Ella came back outside, huffing angrily, and Sam and I broke apart. It seemed she didn't notice anything, for all she did was exclaim "God_damn_it!" and kick the doorframe.

"You might wanna watch that language around your toddlers," I said, and she spun around to glare at me.

However, once she caught sight of both Sami and Johnny staring up at her worriedly, her shoulders sagged, and she dropped down to sit cross-legged in the center of the porch. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to blow up like that. I told myself I was gonna be cool about it." Johnny toddled over to her and climbed into her lap, and she gave him a tired smile.

"You shouldn't _have_ to be cool about it," I assured her. "It was an important day. They turned two. They're official toddlers now." I frowned a little. "But it wasn't like he just completely forgot by his own fault." She gave me a questioning look. "Sam was comatose for a while, and we had to stop Godstiel, and then Sam's hallucinations got out of hand," I explained, discreetly locking my fingers through Sam's as I spoke. I gave his hand a small squeeze and suppressed a smile as he returned it. "I mean, can you blame the man for being stretched a little thin? I'm not saying this excuses him from forgetting his kids' birthday, but it should kinda lessen the crime, right?"

"If anything, it's my fault," Sam added guiltily. "If I hadn't—"

I gave him a sharp, reprimanding glare. "Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence," I said fiercely. "It's not _your_ fault Castiel tore down your fucking wall."

Sam frowned at the amount of disgust in my voice. "Gari, don't—don't be like that. Don't—"

"Don't _what_?" I challenged. "Don't hate him for what he did to you?! Don't blame him for everything you've been through and everything you're _still _going through?!" I shook my head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, Sam, but you're the only one who gets easy forgiveness from me. I'm still holding a grudge against him, and I'm not letting it go any time soon."

He sighed and opened his mouth to say something, but Ella piped up suddenly. "Is somethin' goin' on with y'all?" she asked suspiciously. "You're actin' too normal. Even the little bit of angst right there—it's so like how y'all used to be."

Sam looked at me questioningly, obviously asking if I wanted to tell her, and I replied with a look that said, _Later_. I turned back to Ella. "We've got a lot to catch up on," I told her cryptically. "But there's still time for that."

"'Kay," she replied wearily, and she gave Johnny a tight hug.

"So when did he start walking?" I asked.

"'Bout a month ago. The child care books said it could take up to 17 months, but he took two years." She stared over at her little girl, who was now snuggled up against me and nearly asleep. "Sami can only barely stand on her own."

"Has she said anything?"

"Only one-syllable words. She won't even say 'Mama,' and Johnny was sayin' that when he was about eight months. He's doin' pretty good with talkin'. He doesn't talk much, but he can make little sentences. Stuff like 'carry me' and 'want food.'" She smiled affectionately at her son, who grinned right back at her with tiny little teeth. She looked back up at me. "Y'all wanna come inside?"

"Is it safe?" Sam asked warily.

Ella managed a small giggle as she stood up. "Yeah, Dean's sulkin', watchin' some Spanish soap opera for some reason." Sam and I glanced at each other and laughed. Bobby and Dean had gotten hooked on that when we were staying at Rufus's, and I guessed Dean couldn't give it up. "But, yeah, I can be civil and not slap him for now."

"What's up with you Winchesters getting slapped?" I joked to Sam, bumping my shoulder against his.

"Shut up," he said, giving me a weak glare.

"Are we really gonna have to do this again?" I asked wryly as I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

He rolled his eyes and stood up; then he offered me his hand. I took it gratefully, holding Sami tightly as I got to my feet. She stirred slightly, and I stroked her strawberry blonde curls, hoping that she would stay asleep. "You're surprisingly good with her," Sam noted amusedly.

"Shut up!" I snapped.

His eyes twinkled deviously. "Make me," he said, making my words from earlier sound _much _more suggestive and _much _sexier.

"Give me a minute to ditch the kid and I just might," I replied slyly.

"Oh, really? Why not now?"

Just as I was rising up on tiptoes, Ella popped her head around the door. "Did ya just say ya were gonna 'ditch the kid?'" she asked accusingly.

Sam laughed, and I made a face at him. "I didn't mean it like that, Elle!" I said hurriedly. "I was just joking!"

"Yeah, well, don't," she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am!" At that, she rolled her eyes and went back inside.

"Oooh, somebody got in trouble," Sam teased quietly, and I huffed in false annoyance.

"I would tell you to shut up, but we both know that doesn't get us anywhere," I replied grumpily, and he chuckled.

We walked inside the house, and Dean looked away from the TV just long enough to catch sight of Sami. "There's my girl," he said happily, reaching for her. I handed her to him and carefully took back my amulet. She curled up in his arms instantly, and a soft smile crossed his face as he gazed down at her.

"You big softie," I joked quietly, but he just grinned.

Ella walked out of the nursery and stopped in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Gari, can I talk to ya?" she asked, still sounding a little miffed.

Sam gently shoved me forward, and I glared at him over my shoulder. "Sure, Elle," I said a bit reluctantly. "What's up?" She jerked her head toward the kitchen, and I heaved a sigh and followed her. Apparently, the kitchen had become our place for "serious talks."

"Are you and Sam together?" she asked bluntly as soon as I shut the door.

"Yes."

She blinked a few times, shocked by my outright reply. "When did _that _happen?"

"Last night."

Her eyes widened even bigger than normal. "Did ya, y'know—?"

"_No_, we didn't have sex," I interrupted, rolling my eyes at her. "Just talking. And maybe a little bit of kissing. That _maybe_ got a little bit heated. Until Dean heard us…"

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, her hands clapping over her mouth, forgetting to sound annoyed. "What happened?!"

"Well, he just stuttered a bit and left," I shrugged. "He hasn't mentioned it since."

Ella leaned back against the counter, raising an eyebrow at me. "So I'm guessin' this means Sam said he was sorry?"

I nodded. "He did. And, God, Elle, he was so devastated. I never knew how much he was hating himself for everything that happened. He acted so cold toward me all the time, but that wasn't what he was feeling at all. He's just..." I shrugged, letting out a small laugh. "He's a Winchester. No other way to say it. They're not exactly the best with social situations and personal relationships. You'd know that better than anyone."

"Ya ever think about how weird y'all's relationship is?" she asked curiously, and I detected the slightest bit of displeasure under her tone.

"Well, duh," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "Most girls don't have to put up with their boyfriends going to Hell and coming back soulless and hallucinating Lucifer. And most guys don't have to deal with their girlfriends being demon witches and getting hooked on demon blood because of separation anxiety. There's really nothing even _slightly _normal about our relationship."

"Ya ever think it's weird how dependent ya are on him?"

"Well, yeah…" I answered slowly. "I mean, I never expected to fall in love with _anyone_, much less a Winchester, but I love him, and he loves me, so it's okay."

"That's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "Ya got 'hooked on demon blood because of separation anxiety.'" I frowned at the scathing way she said that, but she continued on. "Ya _left _me because of 'separation anxiety.' Ya don't think that's weird? Unhealthy?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Why are you being so rude?" I asked, hopefully hiding the way her words hurt. "You've never had any problem with Sam and me before."

"Ya don't think I had a problem when my sister ran off and _left_ me?!" she said angrily. "Ya don't think I had a problem when I found out the _reason_ for the demon blood?! Ya don't think I had a _problem_ when I saw how he treated ya for _months_?!" She blinked back tears as I stared at her in shock. "He's put ya through _so much_, and ya just keep goin' back!" she said agitatedly. "What happened to _my _Gari, my big sister, who always said she was 'independent and awesome as Eowyn?' I just—I _hate _seein' ya so desperate and pathetic!"

I didn't know what to say—I doubted I could form any words, anyway. Hearing Ella say that to me was more painful than I would've imagined. _Desperate and pathetic, _I thought bitterly. _Well, at least I'm not the only one who thinks so._

Still unable to think of a reply, I simply turned and headed for the door. As I opened it, I finally thought of something, and I turned back to her. "Yeah, because you and Dean are doing _so well_," I hissed, and I slammed the door behind me before I could see her face.

Sam stood up from an armchair as he saw me coming, and he frowned at what I'm sure was the devastated expression I was wearing. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed his hand and pulled him after me out the front door. Once we were outside, I pushed him back against the light blue paneling. He looked totally bewildered, and I would've laughed if I hadn't been so upset.

"Gari, what—?"

"Kiss me," I demanded, my voice shaking slightly.

He looked even more confused. "What?"

"_Kiss_ _me_," I repeated forcefully, looping my arms around his neck.

Thankfully, he didn't ask any more questions.

Our lips crashed together, and I ran my fingers through his shaggy hair, holding him in place. His tongue was in my mouth, and I was letting out soft moans and trying to force myself even closer to him, drowning my tattered emotions in the way he made me feel.

Suddenly, I was the one backed against the house. He lifted me up, and I locked my legs around his waist. One of his hands was supporting me while the other was edging its way under the back of my shirt to struggle with my bra.

Finally, my senses came back to me, and I tore my lips away from his. He made a low, protesting noise in the back of his throat and brought his mouth to my neck. "Sam, stop," I said breathlessly as I slid my fingers out of his hair.

He reluctantly did as I said, and I put my feet back on the ground as he asked, "What was _that_?"

I let out a breathy laugh. "Sorry."

He shook his head earnestly, that adorable lopsided grin on his face. "No, don't be. I was just surprised."

I sighed and rested my head against the wall. "Well, that was fun."

Sam's grin faded slightly. "So, before, what was wrong?"

My heart dropped into my stomach at the question. I stared down at the white boards of the porch for a minute; then I glanced back up at him. "Tell me you love me," I said, trying to ignore the desperation in my voice.

He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together in worry and confusion. "I love you."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I bit my lip hard. "Tell me you're never gonna leave me again," I said finally.

His fingers brushed my cheek, and I brought my hand up to hold his palm against my face. "I'm never gonna leave you again," he said softly.

"Promise me," I whispered, hating the way my voice cracked.

He pressed a brief, gentle kiss to my lips. "I promise." I closed my eyes, and a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. "Gari, what's wrong?" Sam asked quietly.

I wiped my eyes and looked at him, pulling his hand down to my side. "Nothing's wrong," I said, smiling slightly. "Not anymore."

He gave me a hesitant smile, still looking completely lost, but I didn't mind.

_Maybe I _am _desperate and pathetic. But maybe I'm okay with that._

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Ella and I weren't speaking to each other.

In all the years I'd known her that had never happened before. We fought like sisters: one minute we'd be at each other's throat, and then the next minute we'd be laughing and joking like nothing had happened.

But this fight was different. She'd said horrible things to me, and I'd let her.

I'm not pretending that I didn't see where she was coming from. I _was _super dependent on Sam—probably a little _too _dependent, if I'm being honest. And after everything that happened over the past two years, I could see why she would have a problem with us being together. But if she could forgive me for the demon blood addiction and for killing innocent people because of that addiction, I didn't see why she couldn't forgive Sam for not knowing how to feel about me after that.

And, of course, Ella was the only person who could make me feel completely horrible about something that wasn't my fault. I felt compelled to apologize to her, though, for once in my life, I hadn't done anything wrong.

_At least she's pissed at Dean, too, _I thought, trying to be a little optimistic._ At least she can't focus all of her anger on me._

But she certainly was doing a great job of equally dividing said anger between the two of us.

She had taken Johnny back to the nursery about two hours ago, and she hadn't come out since. I imagined it was hard to avoid people in a house so small, especially when one of those people actually lived there _and _owned the house. (Okay, sure, maybe Dean used a fake credit card to pay for it. But still. It was _technically _his.)

Finally, the door to the nursery opened, and Ella walked straight over to glare down at Dean. He looked up at her from his spot on the couch and offered her a hesitant grin. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna put Sami in her bed," she said coldly.

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but I supposed he thought that Ella was already mad enough at him. "Okay," he said simply, and he lifted Sami off his chest.

The little girl's eyes fluttered open, and, when she saw that she was being taken away from her father, her bottom lip jutted out and tears filled up in her eyes. "Hey, Sami, it's okay," Ella cooed, hugging her daughter. "Daddy's still gonna be here when ya wake up." She gave Dean a pointed look, making it clear that it wasn't up for debate, and he nodded in agreement. "I'm just gonna put ya to bed," she told Sami, but the little girl kept crying. Ella frowned and stroked Sami's hair as she headed toward the nursery. "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

And that's when it happened.

Sami twisted in her mother's arms, her chubby hands outstretched toward Dean. "_Dada_!" she cried, clenching and unclenching her fists in his direction. "_Daaada_!"

Leaving his crutches behind, Dean moved faster than half the healthy people I know. In a flash, he had his daughter in his arms and a large grin on his face. "Hey, baby girl," he said, his voice trembling with pride, and his eyes were suspiciously moist. Sami curled up against him, and he looked over her head at Ella, who was staring at her daughter in shock. "Was that—?"

Ella nodded slowly, wiping tears from her eyes. "Her first full word. It wasn't 'Mama.'"

Dean's grin faded. "Elle, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No, no, it's okay," she assured him weakly. "She always was a daddy's girl."

"But you—"

"_Dean_," Ella said sternly. "I'm just happy she's finally talkin'." She smiled at him. "I'm glad she still knows her daddy. I'm glad ya were here for it."

He grinned back at her, opening up his free arm, and she came forward and hugged him tightly. "Now we just gotta get her walking," he said, and Ella gave a muffled laugh.

I glanced at Sam uncomfortably, feeling like we were intruding on some private, intimate affair. He grinned awkwardly at me, and I knew he was feeling the same. "D'you think we'd be on better terms if I was the one who had her babies?" I muttered to him.

He snorted, trying to hold back a full-blown laugh. "I guess we'll never know."

"What are you two gigglin' about?" Dean asked, and Sam and I froze.

"Same-sex pregnancy," I said flatly.

The look on his face was _priceless_, and it sent Sam and me into a fit of laughter. "I don't wanna know, I _don't _wanna know," the older Winchester mumbled, shaking his head.

"And neither do I," Ella agreed. "Wanna go put her in bed now?" Dean nodded, and, after tossing a bewildered look at us over his shoulder, he followed Ella back to the twins' room.

Once we finally stopped laughing, I noticed the scrutinizing way Sam was looking at me, and I fidgeted in my seat. "_What_?" I prompted. "You're making me uncomfortable!"

"I was just wondering why Ella's mad at me," he said with a shrug.

I blanched, and I bit my lip nervously. "She's not," I said finally.

"Then why does she look like she's planning on killing me in my sleep?"

I forced a grin. "Don't worry; I'll protect you from the scary lady." I hoped he would just leave it at that, but, of course, this was the über-perceptive Sam Winchester, so I had no such luck.

"Am I the reason you're fighting?" he asked quietly.

I didn't answer.

"So I am." He sighed. "What did I do?"

I glanced at him sharply. "You didn't do _anything_," I assured him. "She's being stupid. Don't worry about it."

"Look, if it's something you think I can fix—"

"Sam, _no_," I interrupted. "She'll get over it. Don't _worry_ about it," I repeated.

"How many times has saying that _actually _worked for anyone?" I rolled my eyes at him, and he cracked a grin. "Alright, fine," he relented. "Whatever you say. You're the boss."

I grinned wryly. "And don't you forget it!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly he stared at a spot over my shoulder, fear creeping into his eyes. He clenched his jaw and swallowed roughly, and I looked down to see him tightening his fists so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"Sam?" I said worriedly, waving my hand in front of his face. Sometimes that was enough to startle him out of a hallucination, but, apparently, this wasn't one of those times. "Sammy, snap out of it," I tried again.

Finally, afraid of what I would see, I grabbed Sam's hand.

Lucifer was standing in the center of the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Blood splattered his face and stained his hands and his shirt, and I tried not to think about where that could've come from. "You should be thanking me," he said to Sam. "I've been _so _nice lately. I let you get back with your little girlfriend, and I let you see your niece and nephew! C'mon, Sammy, can't we just go back to how we used to be? You and me. In the Cage. Having _so much fun_. I'm sure you remember that?" he asked earnestly, and he grinned again. This time, I noticed that his teeth were also red with blood, and nausea bubbled in my stomach.

I tore my eyes away from him and turned back to Sam. "Sammy, c'mon, he's not real," I said urgently. "You _know _he's not real."

Sam's eyes met mine slowly. "I—I don't—"

"Hey, listen to me, we're right here," I said, grabbing his other hand and pressing down on the scar. "You and me, we're right here."

Lucifer sighed as he flickered slightly. "I'm gettin' real tired of you," he told me. "You're cutting into my Sam time."

"Well, I'd like to see you _do_ something about it!" I snapped, and he laughed.

"You're feisty. I like it."

I rolled my eyes and focused on Sam again. "_Sam_." I pressed down harder on the scar, and he winced and looked at me. I smiled at him. "There you are," I said warmly. "See? You're here with me. Aren't you?"

"Here we go…" Lucifer huffed, and then he disappeared.

"Sammy?" I said worriedly.

Sam closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm sure." He gave me a weak grin. "Thanks."

"Anytime." I narrowed my eyes at him thoughtfully. "That was the worst in a while, wasn't it?" I asked. "It hasn't been that hard to shock you out of it for a long time."

Sam nodded again. "The blood…" he said shakily. "It was mine."

"How d'you know that?"

"Because… because that's what he always looked like after he—after he…"

"Hey, it's okay," I said gently, realizing what he was trying to say. "You don't have to talk about it. He's gone now."

Just then, Dean hobbled back into the living room, and he frowned at us. "Everything okay?" he asked.

I looked at Sam questioningly. "Yeah," the younger Winchester said finally, never taking his eyes off me. "Yeah, we're good."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said dismissively.

I would've gotten annoyed at his tone, but I figured it was just because of the fact that Sam's response was always, "I'm good," or "I'm fine," or something along those lines, even when it was a total lie.

"So you and Elle are okay?" I asked Dean.

"Yeah, I think so," he shrugged. "Y'know, unless she's waiting to assault me again at the right moment." I laughed lightly, and he grinned. "What about you? Still getting the cold shoulder?"

Ella walked in at that moment. When she saw me, she rolled her eyes and stormed into the kitchen.

I sighed and looked back at Dean. "I'm gonna say that's a yes."

He gave me a sympathetic half-grin. "Well, good luck."

"Yeah, thanks," I said dejectedly.

Suddenly, Ella came back out of the kitchen. She placed her hands on her hips and said, "We need to talk."

"Does this include all of us, or just Gari?" Dean asked warily.

"_All _of ya."

"Crap," Dean sighed. He slowly made his way to an armchair and plopped down in it. "Alright, what did we do now?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "Nothin'." She glanced at me. "Well, nothin' _else_."

"Then what's going on?" Sam asked.

Ella seemed not to hear him, and I took a deep breath in an attempt to control my temper. _So she's _ignoring_ him now? How mature._

"Then what's going on?" Dean echoed his brother, seeming to notice for the first time that most of Ella's anger was directed at Sam.

Ella perched on the edge of Dean's armchair, and she rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "About a month ago, when y'all came back here, Dean and I had sex," she said.

I groaned and covered my ears, and Dean exclaimed, "Elle! What the—?!"

Sam was the only one who didn't freak out. Instead, he was staring at me as if he'd just had some giant revelation, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. I blushed deeply as I realized that he was thinking about all the "strange noises" he'd heard coming from my room the last time we were here and that he'd figured out what had happened that night.

_Oh, great. He's never gonna let me forget that. Thanks a lot, Elle._

"So you wanna get to the point?" I asked, trying to progress the conversation forward before Sam could bring up my dream.

Thankfully, she decided not to ignore me. "Well, uh, we didn't use protection, and—"

I groaned again, interrupting her sentence. Dean's eyes grew wide, and Sam nudged me gently. "What?" I asked confusedly. Sam raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to catch on.

And then it hit me. "Oh, my _God_," I breathed. "Elle, you're not—?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Is—is this the time when I should congratulate you? Or is this a bad thing?"

"I—I dunno," she mumbled, glancing at Dean out of the corner of her eye. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, I would've thought he'd stopped breathing. "Dean, honey, say somethin'," Ella pleaded, shaking Dean roughly.

"Elle… I dunno what to say…" he told her finally, looking like someone punched him in the gut. "We're having another kid? I—I can't—"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I knew ya were gonna be upset," she said pitifully.

That snapped him out of it instantly. "No, Elle, I'm not upset," he assured her, squeezing her hand soothingly. "We'll figure it out, just like we did with Sami and Johnny."

"Elle, you're the best mom in the world," I added, hoping she wouldn't jump on me for speaking to her. "You and Dean can handle this. Sami and Johnny and this new baby are the luckiest kids to ever be born."

She flung herself at me then, her arms squeezing the air out of my lungs and her hair covering my face. "I'm so sorry for what I said," she whispered, her voice shaking with repressed tears. "If you're happy, I'm happy. Even if I'm not totally okay with your choice in men."

"So you finally know what I've felt like for years," I joked quietly.

She gave a strained laugh as she released me. Sam stared at her with those puppy eyes, and I knew that he'd heard our quiet conversation. He was silently telling her he was sorry. After a moment's hesitation, Ella nodded once, and Sam grinned. It wasn't a sign of forgiveness;it was a sign that she was going to be nice, and I was sure Sam knew that.

But, still. For the moment, we were all okay.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So… Elle's pregnant again," I said conversationally as I stared up at the ceiling in my room. I had one arm under my head and the other draped over my stomach, and my legs were crossed underneath the covers.

"Yep," Sam said, and I could feel him looking at me.

"Wonder how that's gonna work out."

"It'll be fine. Just like before."

"I hope so."

I felt him move, and I glanced over to see that he was now propped up on his elbow. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

I sighed. "This Leviathan thing. If they're so horrible, why haven't we heard anything out of them since Sioux Falls?"

"Maybe they're laying low."

I turned toward him. "But why? They're supposedly invincible, right? So why lay low? It's not like we know what we're doing."

Sam shrugged. "Why are you thinking about this all of a sudden?"

"Castiel's been here before," I said quietly. "He knew where Ella lived."

"And?"

"And the Leviathans were inside of him. That's how they know who we are."

"Oh," he said, finally getting it. "You think they're gonna find Ella and the kids."

"It makes sense, right?" I asked. "I mean, I'm not just being paranoid, am I?"

"No, you're not. But maybe they could only remember what Cas was seeing right then. Bobby said the doctor recognized him from when the Leviathans were in Cas. That doesn't mean they had access to his memories."

I lay on my back again. "But it could," I muttered.

"We'll talk to Dean about it tomorrow, okay?" he promised. "Try to relax for now."

"Yeah, okay," I relented, letting out a deep, long breath. "God, I've had enough arguing to last a lifetime."

"But you and Ella are okay now. And she and Dean are okay now. And…" He frowned. "And I dunno how she's feeling about me." He sighed. "It's because of how I treated you, right?"

I rolled back over to face him. "Sam…"

He stared down at the bed, refusing to look at me. "What did she say to you?"

"It's not important," I told him. "It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does." He glanced at me briefly. "That's what you were freaking out about earlier, wasn't it? On the porch?" I nodded slightly. "She thinks I'm gonna hurt you again," he stated, and there was no question in his voice. "She thinks I'm gonna abandon you."

"She was wrong, Sam," I assured him, reaching for his hand. To my surprise, he didn't jerk away like he always did when he was upset. Instead, he let me lock my fingers through his. "_Everything_ she said was wrong." I realized that the last part was partially me trying to reassure myself.

Sam didn't reply; he just rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand, once again avoiding my eyes.

"Sam?" I tried. "_Please_ just look at me." He refused to do so. I dropped back down onto my back and slid my head onto his pillow. His eyes widened slightly when he realized I was there. "Made you look," I teased lightly. A reluctant grin stretched over his face, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that attitude. You know you love me."

His eyes darkened slightly, a tiny bit of the guilt fading away. "Yeah, I do," he said softly.

I grinned mischievously. "This would be the part where you prove it."

He seemed almost hesitant as he brought his lips to mine, and that tentativeness didn't fade even when I kissed him back and knotted my fingers in his hair to pull him closer. I wondered if he was really stressing over Ella's opinion of him that much, and then I thought, _Well, this _is _Sam. He's used to being able to fix everything with just a flash of those puppy eyes and a bashful apology, and it's not gonna cut it this time._

I pulled away from him, and I frowned at the sadness in his eyes. "Hey," I said quietly, "if you're not, y'know—I mean, if you don't want—"

"Gari," he said, stopping me midsentence. He grinned down at me, and something like hunger flashed in his hazel eyes.

And then he was kissing me again, and all of his previous shyness was gone. I made a startled noise in the back of my throat at the sudden forcefulness of his lips, but it soon turned into a small moan as the kiss deepened.

I couldn't help but think, _This is it. We're really about to do this. I'm going to have him back. He's mine again—completely and totally _mine_. My Sammy.  
_

His hands started pushing up my tank top and I felt him brush against the lowest scar on my stomach. Suddenly, all of my insecurities about me and us and everything hit me like freight train. I let out a sharp gasp and shoved him off me, scrambling to get away from him.

"Gari, what is it?" Sam asked worriedly, reaching out to me in the most unthreatening way he could. "What's wrong?"

I pulled down the edges of my shirt self-consciously, making sure every single scar was hidden. I bit my lip hard, my shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "I—I'm sorry," I stuttered out. "I don't—I—I'm sorry."

"Did I do something?" he asked, and the hurt in his voice broke my heart.

"N—no, it's not—I just—God, I'm _so_ sorry." I hung my head and let my hair hide my face.

He pushed my hair behind my right ear and lifted my chin. "What's wrong?" he repeated gently.

I played with the bottom of my shirt, closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to stare into those beautifully concerned eyes of his. _C'mon, make a full sentence. I owe him an explanation. I have to say _something_. He probably still thinks he did something wrong._ "I just—I'm not…" I sighed and shook my head. _Fuck, I can't do this._

Realization dawned on him, and his brow furrowed deeply. "Is it because of the scars?" I nodded slowly, squeezing my eyes closed even tighter as a fresh wave of tears tried to force its way out. "They're nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "We've all got scars."

I shook my head, finally opening my eyes as I pulled away from him. "You don't get it," I mumbled. "They're not just scars."

He frowned. "What d'you mean?"

I took a deep breath and pulled my shirt up to expose my stomach. As I spoke, I traced my index finger over the scars. "Almost all of these are from the detox," I said softly. "Every single one of them is a reminder of what I did—to you, to me, to those innocent people. Every single one of them just screams out _monster_. And…" I looked away from him again, speaking so quietly that he had to lean forward to hear me. "And I keep thinking that you're finally gonna realize that, too… that you're gonna see and feel all of these scars, all of this mess that's me… and you're not gonna want it anymore. You're not gonna want _me _anymore." I ran my fingers over the thin line on the right side of my face. "And—and I wouldn't blame you," I whispered brokenly.

Sam looked even more devastated than before, if that was possible. "Gari," he said as he reached toward me. I shied away, hurriedly wiping my tears just for more to fall. "Garideth, listen to me," he tried again, his voice urgent and desperate. "I don't care about the scars. I don't care what you've done. We've both done things we're not proud of. Didn't you say the same thing to me?" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and he smiled slightly. "See? We're not that different. Maybe your scars are on the outside. Maybe mine aren't. But, hey, scars are sexy, right?" he teased, calling to mind our conversation from so long ago.

I let out a strangled laugh, and his smile grew. "Garideth, please," he implored, and he ran his hand down my arm. When his fingers brushed against mine, I grasped them desperately, squeezing hard. "Look at me." I reluctantly did as he said, hating that I couldn't seem to stop crying and hating how upset that seemed to make him. "You're beautiful—whether you're covered in scars or black hair dye or Alabama swamp water." Another shaky laugh was torn from my chest, and he chuckled with me. "I'm never gonna stop wanting you. I'm never gonna stop loving you. All the scars remind me of is how close I've come to losing you, how many times I thought you were gone, and how much that _terrified _me. Do you remember what I said to you last night?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said simply, afraid to try for more than one syllable.

"Well, I meant it," he assured me. "Every word of it." He drew me closer to him, and I didn't put up a fight. He cupped my face in both of his hands, tracing his thumbs along the scars on my face. "I can't do this without you," he murmured. "I need you, okay?"

I gave him a watery smile. "Okay."

Sam grinned, that genuine, gorgeous grin that lit up my entire world. He tenderly kissed away the tears on my cheeks. "Okay," he echoed, planting a kiss on my forehead. I slowly guided his mouth down to mine, and warmth flooded through me even after he pulled back. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes silently telling me that he was okay with whatever I decided.

"I'm sure," I promised. I had never been surer of anything in my whole life.

This time was different. There was no last night on earth desperation or reunion frenzy. This time, his touch was sweet and gentle and lingering, as if he was afraid he'd break me. I never thought I would be okay with feeling so fragile and so delicate, but with Sam treating me like that, I never wanted to be treated in any other way.

This time, it was a promise—a promise that we were together, that we would_ stay _together, no matter what.

And I'd never been happier.

**6,945.**

**SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. **

**See why it's my favorite so far?**

**I mean, there's the whole Ella issue (not to mention her being pregnant again), but SAM AND GARI. AND SAM BEING SO FUCKING SWEET. I JUST. UGH. NO. I CAN'T DEAL. TOO MUCH FLUFF. I'VE BECOME A FLUFF MONSTER.  
**

**By the way, what DID you guys think about everything to do with Ella? Is she right? Is she being too tough on Sammy? Did she cross a line? What does this bode for the future?**

**And I'd love to hear your reaction to the pregnancy, too!**

**Anyway, review it, lovelies!**

**Dasvidaniya!**


	4. No One Needs To Understand

**Okay, chapter four! We're officially back into the actual seventh season now (for at least a bit of this).**

**Thanks to whichever of the Guests reviewed (not really sure, seeing as you guys don't have pen names)! And welcome new readers/favoriters/followers!**

**So, I don't really have much to say here... Oh! Brownie points to whoever catches the BBC Sherlock quote!**

**I don't own _Supernatural _or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

**ENJOY.**

"Good morning," Sam said, his lips tickling my ear.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled sleepily, and he chuckled.

"It's noon," he informed me. "Don't you think that's late enough?"

"I haven't slept till noon since ever. Let me enjoy this." I rolled over, hoping to curl into warmth and muscles, but I was severely disappointed. "Why are you wearing a shirt?" I whined tiredly.

"I've been up for three hours."

"Doesn't mean you have to wear a shirt..." I pouted. "Clothes are overrated."

His voice dropped an octave as he said, "Got that right." Chills ran down my spine at the huskiness of his voice, and he chuckled again. "C'mon, time to get up."

I reluctantly opened my eyes and glared at his eager face. "How can someone who gets up at nine in the morning of his own free will still be happy?" I grumbled.

"It's the thought of hearing that caring tone in your voice," he joked.

I slapped his chest halfheartedly. "It's too early for teasing," I protested. "We should sleep more. What's the rush, anyway?"

"We're hitting the road today," he explained, and he watched me carefully, as though gauging my reaction.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Is Elle okay with that?"

"Dean talked to her and didn't get slapped, so I'm taking that as a good sign."

I sighed. "We've gotta come here more often. We can't have another throwdown like we did yesterday." Sam nodded in agreement. " Did you talk to Dean about the Leviathan thing?"

"Yeah, and he agrees with me. We don't think it's anything to worry about, but we're still gonna be careful. And Ella knows how to take care of herself."

I smiled slightly. "Yeah, she does. But you know that's just an even bigger reason for us to come back. We've gotta keep checking up on her."

"Yeah, I know." He grinned and kissed my forehead. "Alright, c'mon, get up," he said as he got off the bed.

"Ugh, _fine_," I huffed. "I guess that means I need a shower." I wiggled my eyebrows at Sam. "You could join me," I said slyly.

He rolled his eyes, though he let out a snort of laughter. "If I did that, we'd never get outta here," he said matter-of-factly.

I huffed again and flipped back the covers. "You're no fun!"

"Last night says otherwise," he replied smartly, and I blushed instantly. Looking closer, I saw that he was blushing, too, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, if you're not gonna join me, you better leave me alone to take it. I'm not gonna get anything done if you keep making sex jokes," I teased.

He shook his head good-naturedly as he walked out the door. "Don't take thirty minutes," he tossed over his shoulder.

"I do what I want!" I called back, and I could hear him laughing all the way down the hall. With a sigh, I got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom.

I'm not one to obsess over my reflection—especially not lately—but when I saw myself in the mirror, I was captivated.

My hair was messy, of course—sex and sleep do that to a person—and it framed my face in a sort of halo. The trace of a smile was still on my face, and I was surprised by how genuine it looked. I didn't think I had really smiled since the detox. My eyes were bright and excited, even though there were shadows under them. My face practically glowed with happiness, and I let out a small giggle against my will.

I couldn't remember ever feeling this way—even when Sam and I had first gotten together, even when he told me he loved me for the first time, there had been an underlying sense of dread that wouldn't leave me alone. I'd said it before, and I'd say it again: our relationship began in the middle of the Apocalypse. It was doomed from the start.

But it didn't feel that way anymore. We'd gotten past Sam dying and being soulless, and we'd gotten past me drinking demon blood and lying to everyone for almost two years. Now, it felt like there was nothing we couldn't handle. Now, it felt like we had hope.

And, while allowing myself to hope was a terrifying thing, I couldn't help but do it anyway. I had Sam, and Sam had me, and neither of us was going anywhere.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Ella came outside, and Sam and I slid a little bit away from each other, both of us blushing at the thought of almost being caught in the middle of yet another make-out session. Honestly, since Sam and I had gotten back together, we'd both found it hard to keep our hands off each other, so we took every opportunity we had to get a little alone time. And, _boy_, did I love our alone time.

"Am I interruptin' somethin'?" Ella asked as she sat down beside me.

Sam's face flushed deeper, making him look like a kid who'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and I let out a loud laugh. "Actually, yeah," I said happily. "But tell me what's up anyway."

She glanced down at the steps and sighed. "I owe ya an apology—a _real _apology."

My good mood faded instantly. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to," I said, trying to keep the coolness out of my voice. Maybe she'd told me she was sorry for our fight, but Sam was still feeling guilty (and would _continue_ to feel guilty) until Ella made it clear that she was in the wrong.

Sam snapped his head around to stare at me. "No! Uh, that's not—" His eyes flicked briefly to Ella before looking at me again. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, she does," I replied adamantly. I loosely took Sam's hand in my own, making sure Ella saw the action, and she frowned deeply.

"Yeah, I do," Ella agreed slowly. She continued to stare at the steps as she said, "I'm sorry, Sam, for not trustin' you. I know ya were just confused and hurt by what Gari did. We all were." She suddenly looked up at him. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna go back to trustin' ya just like that. You hurt her, and now it's my turn to be the protective one."

"Ella!" I exclaimed bewilderedly. "What are you—?!"

"No, Gari, I gotta say this," she interrupted sternly, and she glared at Sam again. He frowned, looking about twenty times guiltier and more upset than he did last night. "If ya leave her again, ya better stay gone," Ella said forcefully. "'Cause when she's around ya, she's weak, and she'll go back to ya in two seconds flat no matter what ya do."

I couldn't decide if I should feel insulted for myself or for Sam, but, either way, I knew I was pissed. This was _not _the apology I was expecting. This wasn't an apology _at all_—this was pretty much a death threat.

"And if ya _hurt _her again, in _any _way," Ella continued darkly, "_I _will hurt _you_. I may not be big and strong and powerful, but I _am_ a hunter, and I know how to hurt people. So don't mess it up this time, 'kay?"

"What the fuck is your _problem_, Elle?!" I spat, barely restraining myself from swinging at her. "_This _is your idea of an apology?! What gives you the right to—?!"

Sam broke in at that moment, giving my hand a small squeeze. "No, she's right," he said sadly. He turned to Ella, looking every bit like a kicked puppy. _And _she _is the one who kicked him, _I thought furiously. "I'm sorry, Ella," Sam said. "I'm sorry for what I did to Gari, and I'm sorry that you think I'm gonna do it again."

"She already _knows_ you're sorry!" I exclaimed angrily. "You shouldn't have to say it again!"

Sam gave me a _please be quiet _look, and I sighed and reluctantly let him talk. "And I get why you don't trust me," he told Ella, his eyes wide and sincere and pleading, and I didn't understand how she could still be so mad with him looking at her like that. "But I'm _not _gonna do it again," he promised. "I love her," he said, his face flushing slightly, and, even though I was pissed, I couldn't help the giddy feeling in my chest I got whenever he said that. "And I don't wanna hurt her. I'm not leaving any time soon. Y'know, unless I die. Again."

His attempt at humor fell flat as Ella scoffed and rolled her eyes and I shot him a death glare. "Let's not think about that, okay?" I said bitterly. "Like, _ever_."

He shrugged ashamedly. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he replied. "Something you and Dean have taught me."

I made a face at him. "Oh, shut up."

"Okay," Ella said, and Sam and I looked back at her, I with my eyebrows raised expectantly and Sam with a desperate look on his face. "I'm givin' ya the benefit of the doubt," she informed him. "I know ya love her, and I know she loves ya, too." I decided not to protest being talked about as though I wasn't there, especially since she was actually being somewhat reasonable at the moment. "But my threat still stands," she continued. "I learned how to threaten boys from the best teacher out there, and I keep a pair of safety scissors handy at all times."

I cracked up immediately and Ella grinned, and I knew then that we were okay. Sam looked bewildered, but he didn't question it, probably because Ella was suddenly acting all happy. "You're in the clear," I assured him.

"Oh, so that's what that was?" he asked, still looking totally clueless. "Okay, um…" He gave Ella a small smile. "Thanks. I promise you won't have to kill me."

"I'm holdin' ya to that promise," she said. "Don't mess it up!"

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I rolled over to Sam's side of the bed, and something that felt like paper crinkled under my head. I opened my eyes reluctantly and propped up on my elbow, groggily running my hand through my hair to get it out of my face.

"_Back in a few days. __DON'T__WORRY__. Love you._"

I read the note a few times over, the words not sinking in. Finally, after about the fourth time, I realized what it was saying. My eyes grew wide, and my heart thudded with dread. I flipped back the covers and leapt out of bed, thankfully remembering to pull some pants on before sprinting to the front room of Rufus's old hideout.

"Dean!" I called as I ran down the hallway. "_Dean_!" I stared down at his still-sleeping form incredulously, wondering how he slept through that. I shook him roughly. "Dean! _Wake up_!"

He made a noise of shock and jolted awake, almost falling off the couch. "What? What? Whassa matter?" he mumbled tiredly. "Leviathans here?"

"Dean, Sam's gone!" I said, gesturing my hands frantically.

_That _woke him up. "_What_?" he said darkly. "What d'you mean, _gone_?"

"Look!" I thrust my note at him, and he stared at it bewilderedly. I suddenly noticed another piece of paper folded up on top of the box holding the piece of cake Sam got for Dean the day before (the older Winchester's reaction had been unnecessarily dramatic, but Sam had a lot to learn if he thought cake and pie were the same thing). "You've got one, too!" I said, pointing at the other note.

He snatched it up and started reading. "_Back in a few days. __I'M__FINE__. Sam._" He narrowed his eyes at the paper, as if it had done some unspeakable thing to him. "Alright, let's go," he said, pushing himself off the couch, only to falter and nearly fall back down. "We gotta find him."

"Dean, you're a gimp," I said rationally. "Where d'you think you're gonna go?"

"I don't care!" he snapped.

"Dean, just—"

"_Gari_."

I sighed. "At least call Bobby first. I'll check the GPS."

"Fine." He sat back down and dialed Bobby's number as I went over to the laptop. "_Other shoe_!" he growled into the phone. I didn't know what he meant, but I figured it didn't matter. "Sam. He took off," he explained, and I guessed Bobby hadn't known what he meant, either. "I dunno! Nowhere good!" He rolled his eyes as Bobby replied. "Yeah, but his 'me-time' ain't just him! I mean, for all we know, he's road-trippin' with Lucifer somewhere! Left me here like Jimmy friggin' Stewart!" He sighed agitatedly. "Straight to voicemail," he said into the mouthpiece.

I looked up from the laptop. "GPS is off," I said.

"He turned his GPS off, too!" Dean told Bobby. "And he took my car! Too late!" I assumed Bobby had told him not to worry or panic or something along those lines. Dean opened his mouth again, looking furious, but he suddenly composed himself and simply said, "Alright." He clicked off the phone and looked at me.

"Well?"

"I'm takin' this damn cast off, and we're gonna go find Sam," he said firmly.

I frowned. "Dean, really, I can find him. You need to take care of your leg."

"Damn my leg!" he snapped. "I'm cutting the cast off! Now are you gonna go get the saw for me, or am I gonna have to limp around and get it myself?"

I sighed in defeat and rolled my eyes. "Fine. But just remember, if you have permanent damage done to your leg after this, don't come crying to me. I don't wanna hear it."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Dean and I walked up to the counter in the Gas n' Sip, and the first thing I noticed was the clerk's _Batman: Under the Red Hood _t-shirt. I made a mental note to compliment him on it when we were finished interrogating him.

"How ya doing?" Dean said, leaning against the counter. The guy nodded in acknowledgement. "Uh, was there a, uh, big guy in here yesterday?"

The clerk rolled his eyes. "That's specific."

I bumped Dean away with my hip, and he shot me an irritated glare. "Hi," I said, smiling warmly. "See, the dude's _huge_. Like, six-four. Taller than him. He's got long brown hair and was probably wearing plaid."

The guy nodded. "Yeah, I saw him."

"Great!" Dean exclaimed. "D'you remember what he bought?"

The clerk looked like he was going to say something snarky, but then he looked at me and faltered. "Cake, a few protein bars, beer… Just snacks."

Dean frowned and looked around. His eyes landed on the stack of newspapers, and a light bulb went off in his head. "How about a paper?" he asked desperately. "D'you have yesterday's paper?"

"Yeah, right there," the clerk said, gesturing to another stack of papers.

Dean grabbed the one off the top and scanned the front page quickly, a look of determination growing on his face. "D'you mind?" he asked, waving the paper at the guy, who shook his head.

"Thanks," I told him as we started towards the door. "_Love _the shirt by the way." The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, and I grinned and followed Dean toward the car we'd stolen. "So where are we going?" I asked the older Winchester.

"Bozeman, Montana," he said tersely as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dean, you've gotta calm down," I said gently. "I know you're worried—I am, too—but—"

"No, Gari, I will _not _calm down!" Dean interrupted angrily, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Sam is _hallucinating Lucifer_. We got no idea what he could be seein' right now!"

"You don't think I know that?" I snapped. "I see his hallucinations, too! I know how bad they are!" Dean glared straight ahead, ignoring my point. "But I _also _know that this is Sam. He can handle this. They're not nearly as bad as they used to be. He's getting a lid on all the crazy." I made my tone softer, hoping that a less argumentative tone would make him listen. "You've gotta have a little faith in him. He beat Lucifer for control of his own mind, and he fought his way out of his head to come to our rescue. He's got the strongest will out of anyone I've ever met, and you know it's true." Dean's frown lessened a bit, and I knew that he was reluctantly agreeing with me. "Sam will be fine," I promised. "And we'll be there tonight, anyway."

"_Fine_," Dean huffed. "I hate when you're right." I gave him a small smile. "I'm gonna kill him—you know that, right?" he grumbled. "He stole my damn car." I rolled my eyes and laughed lightly. The older Winchester glanced over at me. "Oh, c'mon, you can't tell me you're not pissed."

"Oh, no, I'm furious," I said dismissively. "But I also know he's gonna be okay when we find him. I'm kinda focusing on that right now since I don't wanna take my anger out on you."

"Thanks for that," Dean said dryly.

"Mhm. But when we find him, I'll help you beat him up."

"Now that's what I call friendship."

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"If I'd known we were playing dress up, I would've shaved my legs," I muttered as I adjusted my pencil skirt and followed after the coroner. Dean let out a small snort and rolled his eyes.

The coroner pulled out a body and stood over it, looking at us expectantly. "This is the one he asked to see."

I glanced at Dean questioningly, wondering what he was going to do. "Great, great," the older Winchester said, looking kind of lost. "Uh, lemme ask you—did he do anything to it?"

The coroner narrowed his eyes. "No… He just asked a few questions about the other vics—missing pituitary glands and so forth."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed under his breath, and he immediately turned on his heel and walked out.

"Um, thanks!" I said to the coroner, hurrying to catch up with Dean. I could hear the man muttering about "crazy Feds" as the door slammed behind me.

Dean was already in the car when I got outside. "What took you so long?" he asked impatiently.

"Well, you just kinda stormed out. Sorry I'm not as fast as you are." I raised my eyebrows at him. "So what's going on? D'you know what he's hunting?" He nodded and pulled out his phone, presumably calling Bobby. "Will you put it on speaker this time?" I asked. "I wanna know what's going on."

Dean rolled his eyes and did as I said just in time for Bobby to pick up. "What'd ya find?" the older man said, getting straight to the point.

"Sam's chasing a kitsune," Dean replied with no hesitation.

"Sam's chasin' a _what_?" Bobby asked.

"A kitsune. It's pretty rare. Dad and I hunted one back in '98."

"Vaguely rings a bell."

"Yeah, didn't make our highlight reel."

"Well, apparently, it made Sam's," I piped up unhelpfully, and Dean shot me an annoyed look.

"Well, at least now we know he's workin' a job," Bobby said.

"Yeah, but why pull the Houdini act?" Dean mused.

"Not a clue. What're ya gonna do when ya catch up?"

"I got a few ideas," the older Winchester said darkly as he hung up, and I frowned. _So the whole 'beating Sam up' thing wasn't a joke… How am I supposed to feel about this?_

I couldn't pretend that I wasn't fuming—Sam leaving like that was just _not _a smart idea from someone who was supposed to be so intelligent. _Maybe it was a personal thing, but seriously! He couldn't have at least told _me_? I'm not some loose cannon or anything! When it comes to hunting, I'm pretty damn patient! …Well, excluding like the first twenty-or-so years of my life… _

Yet, though I'd put on a brave face for Dean, I was kind of having a panic attack over what Sam could be seeing. I knew he had a good idea of what was real and what wasn't, but sometimes what wasn't real was so bad that he couldn't escape it. (Case in point: the other day when Lucifer was covered in Sam's blood.)

Regardless of the anger or worry I was feeling, I knew I'd feel a hell of a lot better when I was holding Sam's hand again.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"So we're just gonna ambush him?" I asked skeptically from my spot on Sam's bed.

"That's the plan," Dean said, leaning against the door. He had his hands balled into fists, and I already knew one of those was probably going to be thrown into Sam's face when he opened the door. I'd tried to talk the older Winchester out of it, saying we should hear what Sam had to say first, but he was adamant. I'd also tried calling Sam to warn him, but, of course, I'd gotten his voicemail. In the end, I'd just resigned myself to having to pick Sam up off the ground and help him ice the bruise that Dean was going to leave on his face.

I looked around the hotel room, my eyes alighting on the neat and orderly way all of the newspaper clippings and maps were pinned on the wall. "He's a little OCD, isn't he?" I said, mostly to myself.

"You're just noticing that?"

"Well, you're so messy, and I'm so messy, and I guess we kinda overrun his OCD-ness," I shrugged. "He doesn't have a chance to be Mr. Clean around us. I can only imagine what the trunk of the Impala would look like if he got his hands on it…"

"You should've seen it when I got back from Hell," Dean replied. "Not only did he have a freakin' iPod dock hooked up to the radio, but the arsenal was all organized by size and type. It was weird."

"And don't forget that stupid Dodge Charger soulless him was driving," I added. "Did you ever see the arsenal in that thing?" Dean shook his head. "He had foam cut out in the shape of the weapons so everything would have its own place."

Dean made a face. "That's just creepy."

"Tell me about it. He almost bit my head off for just tossing a pistol back there." I shrugged again. "But, hey, he w_as _a soulless dickbag then. I imagine real Sam would've just sighed and moved it into place when I'd walked away."

Dean grinned slightly. "Yeah, Soulless Sam was—" He broke off abruptly at the sound of jingling keys. "Alright, shut up," he whispered urgently.

I rolled my eyes. "This is ridiculous."

He glared at me briefly, then spun around as the key turned in the lock. A second later, Sam opened the door, and Dean punched him in the face so hard that he fell back into the plants lining the walkway. "Howdy, Sam," the older Winchester said, sounding pretty self-satisfied.

I sighed and got up, walking outside to where Sam was sitting up and groaning. I held out my hand to him to help him to his feet. "You okay?" I asked.

"Ow," he mumbled.

"New rule!" Dean announced as Sam and I came back inside. "You steal my baby, you get punched!" He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "The hell were you _thinking_, Sam, running off like that?! I mean, for all I know, Satan could've been callin' your plays!"

The younger Winchester grabbed a can of beer from the fridge and winced as he held it to his face. "Dean, look," he said tiredly as he sat down at the table, "how many times do I have to tell you? I'm _fine_."

"Oh, yeah, no, you're a poster boy for mental health," Dean said sarcastically. "You have any idea the kind of horror shows I had goin' on in my head?"

"I left you a note," Sam protested weakly.

"Yeah, _that _was really reassuring!" I snapped. I hadn't wanted to say anything, but I couldn't help it. "_'Back in a few days. __DON'T__WORRY__. Love you,'_" I recited from memory. "Like _that's _supposed to make us feel better?!"

"Gari, I'm sorry," he said plaintively. "I didn't mean to scare you, really, I—"

"You are so _stupid_," I yelped, slapping his arm repeatedly. "Stupid and impulsive and ridiculous and did I mention _stupid_?!"

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth at my behavior. He knew I was more relieved than angry, but I could tell he was trying to look guilty for my sake. "I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't mean to freak you guys out."

I rolled my eyes and slapped his arm again for good measure. "Yeah, well, _don't _do it again!"

"I won't, I promise."

"Okay, well, now that's settled," Dean said agitatedly, and I could've sworn he looked angry at _me _for a second. I wondered if it was because of how quickly I'd forgiven his brother. "What the _hell_, Sam?!"

Sam shrugged ashamedly. "There was a job in town."

"A kitsune. Yeah, yeah. No, I know." Dean frowned. "And you ignore our phone calls _why_, exactly?"

"Because I wanted to take care of it," the younger Winchester replied calmly. "And I did. I took care of it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Where's the body?"

Sam hesitated, and he stared at the ground for a minute before saying, "There is no body…"

"Why not?"

"Because I let her go," Sam said, raising his eyes to his brother's almost defiantly. "She's gone."

"You _what_?" Dean and I exclaimed simultaneously.

"_Why_?" Dean asked disbelievingly.

Sam sighed. "The kitsune we hunted in '98 had a daughter. Her name was Amy. I met her at the library when I was doing research for you and Dad, and we hung out at her hotel room for a while." I raised my eyebrows at the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, and I wondered what Amy had meant to him. "Her mom caught us—she's the one you guys were hunting—and she tried to kill me. Amy killed her and let me get away."

Dean stared at his brother thoughtfully. "You never told me that," he said at last.

Sam shook his head. "I never told anyone. I mean, can you imagine what Dad would've done?"

"So you saw this article in the newspaper, and you just bolted."

"It was my mess."

"And you call letting her go cleaning it up?" Dean asked skeptically.

Sam stared back at his brother, and I could tell he was getting annoyed. "She killed her own _mom_, Dean, to save _me_."

"I hear you, Sam, I do," Dean nodded. "But look at her now. She's dropping bodies, man. Which means we gotta drop her, no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid. I'm sorry, but it's that simple."

Sam gave a mirthless laugh, glancing over at me as he said, "Nothing in our lives is simple."

"He's got a point," I said. "I mean, I'm technically not human, right? I'm still living. Hell, I'm part of the family."

"You're different," Dean said.

"How?"

The older Winchester ignored me (meaning he didn't know how to reply to that), and he turned back to Sam. "Look, man, I get it, okay? You meet a girl, you feel that spark—there's nothing better. But this freak?"

I let out a sharp gasp, and Dean blanched as he realized what he'd just said. Sam closed his eyes briefly, as though trying to keep calm; then he grabbed his jacket and got up, heading for the door.

Dean hurriedly said, "I didn't mean—"

"Yeah, you did," Sam broke in, a thin, careless tone covering the hurt in his voice. He gazed at his brother sadly. "Look, I see the way you look at me, Dean, like I'm a grenade and you're waiting for me to go off. And, Gari, you're just as bad as he is when it comes to worrying about me."

I stared down at the floor as Dean said, "Sam—"

"I'm not going off," Sam interrupted again, his voice growing stronger. "Look, I might be a freak, but that's not the same as dangerous."

"I didn't say—"

"It's okay, say it," Sam said earnestly. "I've spent a lot of my life trying to be normal, but, c'mon. I'm not normal. Look at all the crap I've done, look at me now. I'm a grade-A freak. But I'm managing it. And so is Amy."

Dean stared at Sam for a long time, contemplating his reply. Finally, he said, "Is she? How?"

"She works at a damn funeral home so she doesn't have to kill anyone, Dean," Sam explained. "She's figured out how to deal."

"Okay, well, then, explain the bodies."

"She's done," Sam promised, and Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Her friggin' kid was _dying_, Dean. Put you or me in her position, we'd probably do the same thing." Dean still didn't look like he was buying it, but Sam just seemed to get more determined. "Look, you don't trust her. Fine," he said with a nod. "Trust _me_, Dean," he begged. "_Please_." He regarded his older brother with big, pleading eyes, and Dean finally sighed.

"Okay," the older Winchester said.

Sam blinked, shocked at the reply. "Seriously?"

"Gotta start sometime, right?"

Sam seemed to ignore the slight bitterness of Dean's statement, but I didn't. I also didn't miss the way that Dean's jaw clenched and his eyes flicked away from Sam—a sure sign that Dean was lying.

I hoped that this Amy girl and her kid would get out of town as fast as they could. I didn't want to think about what Dean was planning—all I knew was that it couldn't be good.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"You've got a nice bruise right there," I mocked, lightly tracing my fingertips along the spot where Sam had been punched.

"Oh, ha, ha," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "Y'know, you could've warned me."

"And how would I have done that?" I asked as I readjusted my position in the bed. "You kept ignoring my calls."

"How about yelling, 'Sam, don't open the door, Dean is gonna punch your face in?'" he suggested, and I laughed. "I'm sorry about that, by the way," he said. "Ignoring your calls. Making you worry," he clarified at the confused look on my face.

"Yeah, that wasn't very nice of you," I agreed. I frowned slightly and said, "And I'm sorry for worrying about you so much. I know you can take care of yourself, I just—"

He leaned over and kissed me briefly, cutting me off. "I know," he assured me. "It's okay."

I smiled at him. "Good."

I raised my eyebrows, and he got a wary look on his face. "Um… what did I do?" he asked.

"So this Amy chick…" I started.

He laughed nervously. "What about her?"

"Should I be jealous?"

"Nah, she was just my first kiss," he said offhandedly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You had your first kiss with a _kitsune_? What _is _it with you and your attraction to monsters?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon," I said, rolling my eyes. "You _have _to have realized this. Amy, Madison, Ruby, _me_? We're all monsters." I forced myself to keep smiling, but I could tell he saw through that.

He pulled me close and kissed me again. "You're not a monster."

"Yeah, I am."

"Fine, then you're my monster."

I laughed out loud and covered my face with my hands. "You are _so_ freaking cheesy. Who would've thought Sam Winchester would be a giant cheeseball?"

"Oh, don't try to be all tough. You love it."

"No way!" I protested. "I like my men with a little less cheese."

"So that Shakespeare sonnet I was about to recite's a no-go?" he teased.

I slapped his chest lightly. "If you start reciting 'My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun' or something, I swear to God I'll kill you."

"No, that one's not right," he replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled happily. "That's all about how his mistress isn't beautiful to anyone but him. You're beautiful to everyone."

I laughed again and shook my head at him. "I'm lactose-intolerant!" I joked. "Stop with all the cheese! You're gonna kill me!"

"I was kinda thinking more along the lines of kissing you," he said slyly, and my laughter slowly faded at the look he was giving me. He pressed his lips to mine, and, just when I started to respond, he pulled away.

"Now, that's not fair," I murmured.

"What's not fair?" he asked quietly, and my breath hitched slightly as his hand slid up under my shirt.

"You go from being all cheesy to—" He started kissing my neck, and I let out a shaky breath. "—to this..."

"Life's not fair," he whispered against my ear.

"I'm not complaining," I assured him, and I shivered slightly and closed my eyes as he trailed his mouth up my throat to my lips. I lifted my head up from the pillow, my arms coming up around his neck and one of his hands resting in the small of my back to hold us closer together.

No matter how many times we did this, I didn't think I'd ever be able to get over the fact that we were together again. Every time we kissed, every time we touched, I kept waiting to wake up from some dream and be right back in the panic room or lying alone in my bed at Bobby's. It didn't seem _real_, didn't seem _possible_—I'd had too much go wrong for me to have something good happen—but it _was _real, and it _was _possible, and the proof of that was currently removing my clothes.

Suddenly, Sam froze, his hands going motionless on the waistband of my underwear. I opened my eyes and stared up at him questioningly, and then I saw Lucifer.

"Am I interrupting something?" the devil asked, and I rolled my eyes. I was getting sick of that question, and I was getting _really _sick of being in situations where that question was necessary. "You two weren't about to—y'know—get it on or anything, were you?" He made a face. "My bad. I've always had awful timing. Please, please, go ahead!" He grinned evilly, and I shuddered in disgust. "Don't stop on my account!"

I turned my eyes back to Sam, and I pushed him back gently so I could sit up. His eyes shot over to me, and I smiled. "I'm right here," I said reassuringly.

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding vehemently. "Yeah, I know. I know."

"Just don't address him, okay? Just ignore him."

"Oh, c'mon!" Lucifer piped up. "You're just gonna talk about me like I'm not here? How rude is _that_?"

"Easier said than done," Sam said darkly.

"C'mon, bunk buddy! Don't ya wanna play with me? I brought all your favorite toys!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Lucifer now had a large chain draped around his shoulders and a wicked-looking knife in his right hand.

Sam started to turn his head, but I quickly placed my hands on either side of his face and forced him to look at me. "Hey, don't pay attention to him," I said gently. "He's not real, and you and I are. That's enough to go on, right?"

Lucifer started laughing and jingling the chain, and Sam's shoulders tensed up even more. "Ditch the broad, Sammy," he implored. "We can never have any fun with her around!" I glanced over at him again right as he said, "Or, y'know, I could join you." He winked at me, and I shuddered again.

"Okay, gimme your hand," I demanded, and Sam instantly obeyed. I rubbed my thumb over the scar, lightly at first, then rougher as Lucifer continued to rattle the chain.

Finally, after _much _too long for it to be okay, the devil disappeared with a loud laugh.

Sam sighed in relief and let his broad shoulders sag, and I wrapped my arms around him. He returned the embrace without hesitation. "He's gone," I said, briefly squeezing him tighter.

"Thanks," he mumbled into my hair. "Y'know, you don't have to do this," he said as he pulled away. He rubbed his hand over his scar in a seemingly subconscious way. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," I said earnestly. "I just—I feel kinda useless. I mean, I can see what you're seeing, but I can't do anything to stop it. At least when I do the hand thing, I feel like I'm doing something helpful."

Sam frowned. "Gari, you're helping more than you know," he promised. "It could be _so _much worse than this. The things that happened in the Cage…" He got a distant, far-off look on his face that slowly changed to an expression of fear as he started remembering.

"Sam?" I said softly, and I waved my hand in front of him.

He shook his head a few times as his eyes came back into focus. "Sorry."

"You okay?" I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of my question. "Sorry, that was dumb."

He gave a small, mirthless laugh. "No, it's—I'm okay."

"As okay as someone who sees Lucifer can be?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"You _know _you don't have to put up a brave front for me."

"I know."

"Then why d'you do it?" I asked quietly.

"Winchester genetics?" he suggested lamely, and I managed to hold back another eye-roll.

"That's a crappy answer."

"I know. But it's all I've got." He smiled slightly. "How about this: you already worry about me too much, and I don't wanna freak you out even more."

"Well, that's stupid," I said flatly. "And probably right."

He chuckled. "Exactly."

I looked at him from under my eyelashes and let a sultry grin cross my face. "So… where were we before Satan crashed the party?"

Sam slowly ran his hand up my thigh, and he grinned at the way my breath caught in my throat. "How about here?" he suggested huskily.

"Here is good," I agreed, and I pulled him down toward me, connecting us once more.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Dean pulled up at the hotel we had transferred to in Spokane, and I walked outside to greet him.

"Took you a long time to just pick up some pills," I said casually as I leaned against the Impala.

He walked around and popped the trunk. "Yeah, long line," he said offhandedly. He pulled something out of his pocket, and my eyes widened as I saw what it was.

"Dean, what did you _do_?" I asked warily, eying the bloody dagger with a suspicious dread.

His head shot up, and his eyes met mine defiantly. "I couldn't let her get away. She was a monster, Gari."

"You're trying to reason with _me _about killing someone for being a monster?" I couldn't help it; I laughed in his face. "That's ridiculous!" He opened his mouth angrily, but I spoke up again. "And don't give me the whole 'she killed people' thing! That's pointless! You can't just pick and choose who to let go like that, especially when she actually had a _reason_ for killing people!"

"She could kill again!" Dean argued. "If her kid got sick again, she would've done it."

"And you _wouldn't_?" I retorted. "If Sami or Johnny or this new baby were sick and dying, you're telling me you wouldn't go to Hell and back and kill anything or anyone in your way to find a cure?!"

The older Winchester wouldn't meet my eye. "I'm not sayin' I feel good about it, but it had to be done."

"So much for trusting Sam, huh?" I snapped, and Dean flinched at the venom in my voice.

"Gari—"

"God, you are so _full_ of it!" I raged, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "How could you just lie to his face like that?! And about _trusting _him?! You _know _that's all Sam wants from you! Are you _still _not trusting him after everything he's done to make it up to you?!"

"Well, how am I supposed to trust him if he keeps lying about what he's seeing?!" Dean replied angrily. "All the 'I'm fines' and 'I'm goods' and 'I'm okays' are _crap_, and you and I both know it!"

"But he has _me_! Don't you think if it _ever_ got to be something he couldn't handle, I'd _tell_ you?!" I clenched my fists tightly, trying to hold back my fury. "I'm gonna do whatever it takes to help him, and, if that means letting him glaze over the details so you won't freak, then that's what I'm gonna do."

Dean's eyes lit up, and I wondered what I'd done. "You're gonna do whatever it takes to help him?" he asked slowly. "Telling him about Amy… you _know_ what that would do to him."

I closed my eyes and sighed. _Fuck… I walked right into that._ "I really hate you sometimes."

"As long as you don't tell him, I don't care _how _you feel about me."

I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows skeptically. "So what are we gonna do if he finds out? 'Cause _you _know that he will."

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," he said dismissively. "And, hey, who says he's gonna find out? As long as you don't spill it while he's seducing you—"

"As long as _you _don't spill it when you're in a drunken stupor to cope with the guilt—"

"Look, it's not that hard," he interrupted, looking pretty annoyed, which didn't bother me in the least. "It's never gonna be brought up again. For all he knows, Amy and Jacob Pond are living out their lives somewhere far away from here."

"Amy _Pond_?" I echoed. "_Dude_, why'd you have to kill her? She took her name from a companion!"

"I… have no idea what you're talking about…" Dean said confusedly.

I rolled my eyes. "Uncultured swine."

Dean shot me a look, but he didn't say anything else, and I trailed after him toward the hotel.

_This is bad… This is _very _bad… _

I'd learned from harsh and recent experience that nothing good came out of lying, especially to someone you were so close to. I dreaded to think what would happen if Sam ever found out. He wouldn't just be mad at Dean, even though he was the one who killed her—he'd be mad at me, too, for keeping it a secret from him. I could already feel the guilt gnawing at the back of my mind, and I hoped it wouldn't get to be too much for me to handle.

**7,193.**

**I may be a little late updating chapter five and so on for a while because I am SUPER busy, but it shouldn't take too extremely long!**

**Anyway, review it, lovelies!**

**Dasvidaniya!**


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